Roots of Destruction
by TheMysteriousComicGeek
Summary: Donna has brought the Doctor home after the Underground ordeal in hopes that he will heal. But with the Doctor's odd moodswings and a deadly mystery in the making, those hopes may not be met. The Universe just doesn't allow the Doctor a break. Warning, this story has psychological flashbacks, some swearing, and unpleasant injuries.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone! Yes, I've figured out how to write the next story following the Underground! I am quite amazed actually. Everything came to me yesterday and my dad helped me form my ideas to make an interesting plot. I have decided not to do a bunch of vignettes and the title of the story as you can see has changed which I am happy about. :) On another note, some of you may have read my old stories. Well, I am planning to rewrite most of them. Make them better and fit more into the plot of the Underground. Meaning I will have my originals up but I am also going to have my completely corrected and better described old original stories. So, I'll be extremely busy with everything. Updates like I said before will be once to twice a week, depending on the length of time I have to write and edit stories and if I'm lucky or there's a holiday there will be more updates. So, yeah hope you enjoy this next story. Warning, there will be flashbacks in later chapters, so Doctor whump will definitely occur. I hope you enjoy the story and please review. :)**

Chapter 1

The wind picked up on the quiet street in Chiswick. No one was awake since it was early morning and everyone was cozily tucked away in their beds. The air had a nice chilly bite to it and the grass was covered in wet dew. A neighborhood tabby wandered pass as the wind blew the leaves aside and a loud wheezing noise was heard. A blue box materialized out of thin air. With a loud thump, the box landed as the icy breeze swept pass it's exterior and a collection of crisp leaves tumbled along the graveled road. The doors silently creaked open to the stillness that swept the street. Donna stumbled out, wrapping her long pale arms around her chest. A shiver wracked her body from the chilled breeze.

The Doctor appeared right behind her. He was a tall man,or Time Lord, with brown eyes and wild brown hair upon his head. A heavy brown coat draped over his skinny frame comfortably as he cautiously stepped out of the box. His eyes darted around suspiciously as if the monsters from a terrible nightmare would jump out of no where and grab him. He grabbed hold of Donna's hand, squeezing it tightly in reassurance. More for himself then her truthfully. He was nervous about being outside the TARDIS and it showed clearly on his thin freckled face.

People, who could possibly be on the street, might believe the Doctor was just naturally skittish, until they took a glance into his past. What they would find would horrify even the most apathetic person. For the Doctor had been the victim of unspeakable horrors and suffered through so much more then the average person could handle. Donna held his hand tightly, leading him towards the two story house at the end of the street. The Doctor watched each house he passed, noticing the curtains drawn and the soft puff of smoke coming from each of the chimneys. He glanced back at the blue box in concern.

"Donna maybe we should move her," the Doctor stated, "She's not in a very safe place." Donna shook her head as ginger locks splayed across her shoulders.

"Nah, Spaceman it's fine for now," Donna responded, "Let's just get you situated at my house before we go back to the Old Girl. She probably needs a break from us after our little argument." The Doctor scoffed in annoyance before rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't see why we have to stay with your mother though," he exclaimed. "She's not to fond of me and I think I'll heal better in the TARDIS anyways. Not that I don't like your mother, she just picks a fight with me every time we visit. I am looking forward to seeing Wilf though. I do like Wilf, but the TARDIS is a lot more rela..." Donna spun around to face the Doctor, her arms crossing over her chest. She gave him a pointed glare.

"Look here sunshine," she stated, "I think it's best for the both of us to spend some time in a house." Her hand waved in the direction they were heading. "With people to help us. I need my family right now more then anything and knowing you, if you were inside the TARDIS at the moment, you'd be tempted to fly off to the next adventure and probably almost getting yourself killed. I won't allow that."

The Doctor glanced down sheepishly, his bare feet padding along the graveled road. Donna sighed and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know it's difficult for you to leave the TARDIS and I am so proud of you that you conquered your fears and went out to help Claire and talk to Ms. Mills, but right now the TARDIS needs to heal and she can't do that with us banging around inside." The Doctor nodded his head, still taking cautious glances over at his beloved ship. Donna half expected him to sprint back as quickly as he could and slam the TARDIS doors shut behind him but luckily for her, she didn't have to chase down a hysteric martian. She felt the tremors that ran up his hand as he held on tightly. His grip was meant to keep her from randomly disappearing into thin air. Donna snorted at the thought. Like that would happen.

She took the two steps up to the door of her family's house and found the house key in the flower pot. No use in waking them up early. Her mother would just nag at her. She pushed the key into the lock and quietly turned it. The door clicked open. The Doctor's eyes kept flitting worriedly over at his TARDIS and he jumped slightly surprised by the click.

"Spaceman, why are you jumpy," Donna whispered quietly. "You've been in my Mum and Gramps's house before. It's nothing different." The Doctor nodded his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I know, but do you think I put the perception filter up," the Doctor replied. "Because I can't remember. Maybe I should go back and check." The Doctor turned to leave but Donna softly put a hand on his arm and pulled him into the dark house. The Doctor followed without struggle. Donna rolled her eyes. She knew it would be difficult to keep the Doctor cooped up but he needed the break and the time to heal and the TARDIS console would only tempt him to run.

"Doctor if you forgot to turn on the perception filter then the TARDIS will,"Donna responded back. She turned on the living room light, before sauntering over to the kitchen. "Sit down Spaceman and relax. Nothing's going to happen." The Doctor flopped down onto the sofa, gazing absently at the black screen of the tv in front of him.

"If you want to watch something the remote is in the little box next to the couch," Donna stated from the kitchen. The Doctor nodded his head, opening the box before pulling out the black remote. He switched the TV on, flicking through the channels before landing on the cartoon channel. He leaned back and watched lazily. A whistle was heard from the kitchen and the click of the stove turning off. Donna drifted out with two cups of tea, handing one to the Doctor before falling down next to him, sinking into the soft cushions. She took a long sip from her cup before glancing over at the Doctor, who was toying around with his own.

"Don't you want your tea," she asked. The Doctor shrugged, placing the mug on the coffee table.

"I'm just not in the mood for tea," the Doctor responded. Donna's eyebrows shot up at the statement. When wasn't the Doctor in the mood for tea? She placed her own mug next to his and turned to him.

"Do you want to talk about it," Donna asked. The Doctor shook his head before his eyes grew dark with anger. He turned to her with a scowl.

"Why do you always think there's a reason behind what I do," he snapped, "Maybe I just didn't want any tea." He crossed his arms and huffed petulantly. Donna glared.

"That was uncalled for," Donna reprimanded, "Don't you dare speak to me in that tone again, sunshine." The Doctor glanced down sheepishly, eyes widening with realization. He covered his face and heaved deeply.

"Sorry...sorry...sorry," he said, "I shouldn't of been rude." He sighed deeply, rubbing at his eyes. "Rassilon, What's wrong with me?"

Donna glanced away. The Doctor's mood swings as of lately were giving her whiplash. He constantly switched between being sheepish and nervous to bad tempered and angry and she couldn't keep up. She didn't know what would set him off and what reaction it would cause, confirming her belief that he was suffering from head trauma or some type of mental disorder. As soon as she had some free time, Donna was going to talk to a psychiatrist. She had seen some glimpses of the old Doctor, especially times when he felt like he needed to save someone but that began to diminish right after dropping off the aliens and Ms. Mills. He had become an emotional trainwreck unable to regulate his emotions. She rested a gentle hand on his thigh and he flinched from the touch. Which was a strange reaction from him, considering it was her. His muscles finally relaxed.

"Spaceman, I don't know," she stated, "But I promise you I'll find out and help you,alright?" His eyes flitted over to her's.

"Do you think I'm going insane," he asked, "Because I feel like I am but I'm not sure."

"Doctor, I think...I believe you'll be fine," she replied. "Just keep a leash on that temper of your's that's all." The Doctor nodded his head. he lifted his legs up onto the couch and placed his chin gently on top.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?!" A voice shouted from behind. The Doctor lept from the couch startled before crashing to the floor. He turned around to meet the scowling face of Sylvia Noble. A pink bathrobe was draped around her shoulders and her blondish-white hair was pinned up in curlers. This was the meeting he was dreading.

"Mum," Donna snapped back, "We came to visit. We're going stay here for a while."

"Oh, is that so Madam," she replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Donna crossed her arms, scowling. Sylvia glanced away from her daughter and focused her glare on the Doctor.

"Not one call," she icily stated, "You just go gallivanting off after the whole sky burns. Not checking up on us once."

"She was going to say bye but we had a spontaneous trip," the Doctor replied. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Was I talking to you," Sylvia snapped back. The Doctor shook his head, glancing away nervously. During his time in the Underground, if he ever spoke out of line, they would always say that right before the punishment, which was normally an unpleasant ordeal.

"No, sorry Ma'am," the Doctor said, trepidation evident in his voice. Donna glared at her Mum, marching over to her.

"A word, Mother," she stated with a scowl. She grabbed her Mum's arm and dragged her up the stairs. The Doctor picked himself off the floor before settling back on the couch. Until a worrisome thought popped into his head. He might not be allowed on the furniture. He didn't want to do anything that would get Sylvia angry. He slid off the couch and onto the floor, crisscrossing his legs. He listened for a few seconds to the harsh whispers from upstairs before tuning it out and lazily going back to watching tv.

* * *

Donna stopped at the top of the stairs with her mother in tow. She turned around, glaring daggers.

"About time we talked," Sylvia sniffed, "Ever since _that_ man ruined your wedding and dragged you off to who knows where, we never talk and you never call." Donna rolled her eyes.

"Can we not bring up Lance," Donna stated exasperatedly, "Honestly we would've never worked. He preferred spiders." Sylvia matched her daughter's glare and crossed her arms.

"What's that supposed to mean," she exclaimed.

"Never mind that," Donna stated, flicking her hand."I brought you up here to talk about the Doctor."

"Oh, _him_," Sylvia replied, contempt in her voice. "I don't know why you spend so much time with _him_."

"Can you at least be pleasant for once," Donna retorted. She started to get a bad feeling about bringing the Doctor here. Maybe it wasn't the wisest decision on her part. "He's been through some rough patches at the moment and needs a quiet place for his mind to heal."

"What happened to him,"Sylvia asked, she glanced down the stairs to witness the man they were speaking about, sliding down to the floor. The door cracked open from another room and the old cheerful face of Wilf popped out.

"Donna, your home," Wilf exclaimed with much enthusiasm. He approached Donna and pulled her into a hug, kissing her on the cheek. "How's your travels been, sweetheart. Is the Doctor here?"

Donna pulled out of the hug and kissed her Gramps on his bearded cheek. "Yeah he's here," Donna replied. "And our travels have proven to be quite the event to remember." Wilf frowned and touched his granddaughter's cheek.

"What happened, sweetheart," he asked, "Is everything alright." Donna shook her head and covered her mouth and Sylvia's features immediately softened into worry at her only daughter's sudden change in emotion.

"No nothings alright," she exclaimed, covering her mouth as tears watered the rim of her blue eyes.

"What's wrong Donna," Sylvia asked softly, "Did _that_ Doctor hurt you. If he did I want him out of this house."

"No Mum," Donna exclaimed, "Nothing like that at all. He would never hurt me." Sylvia and Wilf watched Donna compose herself. She breathed heavily, trying to find the best way of explaining it without revealing to much to her Mum. She wouldn't mention her being trapped in the Underground either. It would just cause unnecessary anger.

"He was kidnapped Mum, Gramps," Donna began, "Right off the streets. He went missing for two and a half months or so." Sylvia's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"That's why you didn't visit or call during those months," Sylvia confirmed. Donna nodded her head, covering her mouth as tears dripped down her face.

"He was tortured," She stated,"and scared. I had to work with the authorities to locate him and get him out." Wilf pulled Donna into a hug. "It was overwhelming and every night I was plagued by horrible thoughts of what he must be going through. I thought I lost him." Sylvia glanced down at the man sitting in their living room. He was staring blankly at the tv while sitting uncomfortably on the floor.

"Oh that poor man," Sylvia said sympathetically. "That explains why he's skinnier then usual."

"He wanted to continue traveling. Runaway from what happened," Donna stated, "But I told him No. He needed to rest and be in a safe, quiet place." Sylvia nodded her head.

"Good," she stated, "I'm going to make a big breakfast. Try to get some meat on those bones. He looks ready to collapse." Donna nodded her head.

"Yeah," Donna replied. She still held onto her Grandfather. "I'm going to set the guestroom up and get him situated." Sylvia nodded before making her way down the stairs. She glanced over at the man dressed in brown, who was laying on the ground now.

"Hey you," she exclaimed, "The couch is more comfortable. Why don't you lie down there." The Doctor jolted from the sudden loud and demanding voice. He turned his gaze towards Sylvia who was tightening the straps to her pink bathrobe around her waist.

"Are you sure," he asked cautiously in case it was a trick.

"Do I look like I'm teasing," Sylvia retorted, "Get on that couch and relax and I'll make breakfast." The Doctor nodded his head before stiffly sitting on the couch. He didn't know whether it was a trick or not, but it was better then disobeying a direct order. Sylvia nodded her head satisfied before strolling into the kitchen. "Do you like pancakes, sweetheart," She shouted from the kitchen. "Or do you prefer sausage and eggs? Or maybe you want some biscuits."

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders before realizing Sylvia couldn't see him. "I don't know."

"Alright then I'll just do it all," was her response. The Doctor quirked an eyebrow. Sylvia had never been this nice to him. Never ever. What caused the sudden change of heart? The Doctor glanced up the stairs, catching Donna's eyes. Donna smiled at him and waved and he cautiously waved back. He caught Wilf's eyes and a smile broke across the old man's face.

* * *

Wilf turned back to Donna. His smile turning grim.

"What really happened," he asked. Donna sighed and leaned against the wall.

"Exactly that," she stated, "We were in 2015 Cardiff and we were kidnapped. The Doctor was tortured and experimented on."

"Did they hurt you," Wilf asked. Donna shook her head.

"No, not much anyways," She responded. "The Doctor protected me to the best of his abilities and then released me and all the other prisoners. I went searching for people who could help him and in the next week or so, we got him out." Wilf nodded his head, rubbing his blue eyes.

"You know he's going to suffer from a lot of issues," Wilf replied. "He'll need people to be extremely patient with him." Donna nodded her head.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Trust me. I'm going to talk to a psychiatrist about his change in behavior and maybe find a few of his old friends to help me." Wilf sighed.

"Alright sweetheart," he replied. "Has his mood swings been violent or angry?" Donna nodded her head.

"That's why I thought it best to bring him into a calm environment," Donna said. "Where I can help him."

"What about his ship?" Wilf asked.

"Down the street a bit," Donna replied, "We're going to move it into the shed if that's alright with you?"

"Of course it is," Wilf responded. "I'm going to talk to the Doctor a bit. I believe your mother is cooking enough food to feed an army." Donna chuckled.

"He'll need it," she said. "I'm going to set up the guestroom now." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as a headache bombarded her skull. "God, why did this have to happen," she exclaimed. "He doesn't deserve it." Wilf patted Donna on the shoulder, pulling her into one more hug.

"It will get better," he replied, "I promise you that." He turned away, slowly moving down the stairs.

"Hey Doctor," Wilf exclaimed, "How are you?" She watched as her grandfather plopped down next to the Doctor, keeping a comfortable distance from him. More for the Doctor's sake then himself. Donna smiled. Yeah, her Gramps knew what to do in this type of situation. He did fight in a war after all and faced many terrible nightmares from those bad memories. He was the most likely candidate to fully connect and understand what the Doctor was suffering from. With a quirk to the lips, Donna strode down to the guestroom and opened the door.

* * *

**Woohoo, First chapter for the next story done. This day is not over yet though. I'll have one more chapter about their arrival and the following chapter will be about nightmares. The Doctor is a bit skittish and unpredictable but it is to be expected after the last story. I hope you review and tell me what you think because I know the first chapter started off calmer, but adventure and mystery never seems to leave the Doctor alone for long. Please review! I love reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reviewing, following, and/or favoriting my story! I am really pleased that the first chapter went well. Here's the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy. :)**

Chapter 2

Donna listened to the quiet buzz of the tv downstairs. She was standing in a medium sized room with a double bed against the wall and a dresser on the other side. She straightened out the white sheets on the bed before throwing the green duvet over the top. She fluffed a couple of pillows, leaning them against the headboard before she drew open the curtains. Her room was right next to the Doctor's which made it easier for her to gain access into the Doctor's room if he had a nightmare. She quietly shut the door, before turning down the stairs. The smell of pancakes, sausages, and eggs wafted her nostrils,causing her to salivate with hunger. She did not realize how hungry she was until now and a solid meal sounded pretty nice after a good couple of months of eating crap. Even when she was at Torchwood with Jack and the crew, they really didn't have a solid meal due to the fact that they were trying to find the best way to rescue the Doctor. Even after the rescue, she didn't eat much. She was more focused on getting the Doctor comfortable in the TARDIS and planning away to take the alien escapee's home. So, it would be quite wonderful to have three solid meals without the worry of eating on the run.

She stepped into the living room where the Doctor and her Grandfather were silently watching cartoons. Wilf kept taking worried glances over at the Doctor, who stared indifferently at the screen. He reached over towards the Doctor who flinched slightly from the sudden movement before going back to what he was doing. Her Grandfather seemed to be taking inventory on the Doctor's state, watching the different ways he would react.

"So, Doctor how has life been for you and Donna," her Grandfather asked, his eyes watched the expression that flitted across the Doctor's face. His eyes grew cold and he shrugged his shoulders like the past two months had never happened. Though if you looked closely into his brown orbs, a person could see the stirring emotions underneath. The Doctor gave a false smile.

"Oh, fine," he replied with fake cheer. It was like a lightswitch had turned on, telling him to be enthusiastic. "We saw a few new planets and we met Agatha Christie."

"Agatha Christie," Wilf exclaimed, "you don't say? What was that like?" The Doctor faced Wilf and Donna immediately noticed the sudden change in the Doctor's demeanor. He was happy about not being pushed on the Underground subject and immediately grabbed hold of the distraction Wilf provided. She smiled as the Doctor's normal happy energy came back and she was thankful for her Gramps capability of knowing when to step back. She knew the happy energy was just a fluke but she couldn't help but hope that maybe he would be on the path of healing sooner then she originally believed.

"She was brilliant!" the Doctor exclaimed, waving his hands about. "And it turned out that the wasp was the..."

Donna turned away from the conversation and strolled into the kitchen where her Mum had several meals going at once.

"There you are," Sylvia exclaimed with a slight grumble. "Go take care of the sausages. How much does he normally eat?" Donna stepped over to where the sausages were sizzling on the pan, she took the fork and began turning them. Her Mum quickly mixed the batter for the pancakes. Donna shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know. His appetite has changed quite a bit," Donna replied, "One of the men that helped me rescue him tried to get him to eat something but he refused."

"Well, He's not going to refuse eating any of this," Sylvia grumbled, "I'll force it down his throat if I have to. He's too skinny for his own good and I wouldn't be surprised if he blew away in the breeze." Donna bitterly chuckled at that. It was something she worried about too. She flipped the sausages once more as they made a popping noise in the pan drenched with grease. "Once you're done with the sausages can you start on the eggs." Donna nodded her head as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the eggs.

"Do you want me to do the whole container," She asked. Sylvia glanced over and nodded her head.

"I'm pretty sure you haven't had a hearty meal either," Sylvia responded. She moved over to the stove, switching on the back burner before poring pancake batter onto the pan. "Have you talked to a doctor about his condition yet?" Donna shook her head.

"No I plan on talking to one soon," she responded. The kitchen fell into silence as the two women cooked. Sylvia glanced over at Donna before turning her gaze back to the pancakes she flipped.

"You know you might want to check out a psychiatric hospital or something," Sylvia stated, "Because people who have gone through an event like this usually requires professional help 24/7." Donna slammed the spatula into the eggs.

"Mum, I'm not going to let him get carted off to some looney bin," Donna exclaimed, "It would be detrimental to his mind. He has abandonment issues to the extreme right now."

"Abandonment issues?" Sylvia asked. "I didn't see any of that."

"He held onto my hand all the way to your house," Donna explained, "It was like he was afraid I would disappear and never return." Sylvia glanced out at her father and the Doctor, who were sitting on the couching. The Doctor had settled back down and had moved an inch closer to Wilf.

"Oh, dear," Sylvia muttered. "It's worse then I thought." Donna rolled her eyes, before placing the sausages onto the plate and scooping the scrambled eggs into a bowl. She stepped over to the refrigerator, rummaging through it.

"Do we have any juice?" Donna glanced over at her Mum, waiting for an answer. Her mother snorted.

"You have eyes use them," she retorted. Donna scoffed before moving a milk carton away and locating the orange juice.

"Here it is," Donna stated, "Thanks for your help." Sylvia glared back before sticking the pile of pancakes on a plate.

"Grab the maple syrup and butter while you're at it," Sylvia replied. Donna grabbed the items and followed her Mum out into the dining room. She set up the wooden table, placing four plates down on each place mat and then putting the cups and silverware in their needed places.

* * *

Donna entered the living room, where her Gramps was showing the Doctor old family pictures and talking enthusiastically about each relative and telling old stories. The Doctor actually looked interested in the story telling. Donna marched over to Wilf and the Doctor, placing her hands on her hips.

"Alright you two,"Donna stated playfully. "Playtime's over and breakfast is waiting to be served." Wilf raised his hands in a playful surrender, chuckling to himself.

"Yes Ma'am," He replied. He got off the couch and cracked his back before making his way slowly to the dining room. The Doctor got up a bit slower and gave Donna his well known puppy eyes.

"I'm not hungry," he stated. Donna rolled her eyes and gently touched his arm, leading him out of the living room.

"Spaceman, you're going to have to eat eventually," she stated, "I can't let you starve." The Doctor followed her and sighed.

"I know but food is just too much right now," the Doctor replied. "I'm sort of full anyways." At that moment his stomach growled in protest and Donna couldn't help the smirk that curved her lips. "Traitor," he muttered.

"Oh quit being a sourpuss," Donna exclaimed, "My Mum went to an awful lot of trouble to make you breakfast. Besides, you need to get something in your stomach." She sat him down in one of the chairs and Sylvia piled his plate high with food. The Doctor leaned his head on the table and sighed deeply. He poked at the food for a couple seconds, taking a quick sniff before biting into the pancakes. He really didn't care about the conversation that went on around him instead preferring to fiddle around with his breakfast.

"Doctor please eat a bit more sweetheart," Sylvia said, "I want to see some meat on those bones. You're skinnier than a rake." The Doctor glared, slamming his fork on the table and pushing his seat out before stomping away, grumbling. They heard a loud bang as the Doctor hit something.

"Well, that was rude," Sylvia stated. Donna glared before sighing and placing her napkin on the table. She turned towards where the Doctor had made his exit.

"Was that the short temper you were talking about," Wilf asked. Donna nodded her head.

"I'll give him a few minutes to calm down," Donna stated, she quietly went back to her meal. As she lifted the fork to her mouth, a loud shriek was heard from down the hall followed by a bang. Donna shot out of her seat and ran towards the sound with Wilf and Sylvia following close behind.

They found the Doctor huddled against the far wall of the hallway, his brown eyes wide with fear and shock. Donna immediately fell to her knees and brushed the Doctor's hair away, silently shushing his startled whimpers. Sylvia and Wilf stood behind Donna watching in concern. Donna could feel him trembling as she held his hand.

"Shhh...It's ok," she whispered. The Doctor didn't relax and she could feel the muscles straining as if ready to run. The Doctor shook his head rapidly, his knuckles turning white from his hands clutching in fear.

"I saw them," the Doctor gasped out. "I saw them in the bathroom. T-they were watching m-me." Donna gently held the Doctor close. "Saw who sweetheart?"

"T-the C-Colonel and..." the Doctor took a loud gulp... "And C-Carter." Donna glanced at him in concern as she mentally noted another disorder.

"But Doctor they're gone," Donna replied softly. "They're never going to hurt you again."

"B-but I s-saw them," the Doctor stuttered out. He pointed towards the door with a shaky finger. Donna pursed her lips and climbed to her feet. She carefully stepped over to the bathroom and turned the knob. Her Grandfather immediately went over to the Doctor and pulled the shivering Time Lord into his arms. Donna opened the door.

"NO Donna! They'll hurt you!" the Doctor shrieked in fear and he lept to his feet, pulling out of Wilf's grasps, and slamming the door shut.

"Doctor there is no one in there," Donna tried to reason. The Doctor glanced down the hall, his eyes shooting around in fear.

"That's what they want you to believe," the Doctor stated, "They want you to think you're safe before they come for you. Major Johnson is probably nearby." The Doctor's hands shook as his brown eyes nervously darted around the area. Donna grasped his face gently, turning his eyes to meet her's. She smoothed back the crazed dark brown hair, shushing calmly. Wilf stepped forward, placing a comforting hand onto the Doctor's back. Sylvia stood, leaning against the wall. She had never seen such a fearful reaction from the man in front of her before. It only confirmed her beliefs that they couldn't take care of him. He needed someone professional to help him through it.

"Doctor, there is no one here," Donna stated firmly but calmly. "It's impossible for them to be here."

"B-but I saw them," the Doctor responded. Donna took his hand and Wilf rubbed his back.

"Trust me sweetheart, no one's here," Wilf said calmly. "Do you want to check again?" The Doctor shook his head and stepped away from the bathroom door, huddling up against the wall.

"No," he whispered.

"Spaceman, I think you need to check," Donna replied. "I promise you no one's going to hurt you." Donna held out her hand. "Trust me like I trust you." The Doctor paused for a second before nodding his head. He firmly grasped Donna's hand and she slowly led him to the door. Wilf put his hand on the knob.

"Do you want me to open it or do you want to," Wilf asked. The Doctor pushed Wilf's hand away and held the knob.

"I want to," he replied, "Just in case they're in there. I don't want you to get hurt." Wilf nodded his head and stepped back. The Doctor took several deep breaths and turned the knob. The door clicked open. No one there. The Doctor gasped as he spotted the white porcelain toilet, the bathtub in the corner, and the sink with a bar of soap. No one stood on the blue rug or shadowed the light blue walls. The Doctor leaned against the wall, eyes searching the room for the figures.

"They're not in here," the Doctor stated. "Where did they go?" Donna rubbed his arms and pulled him into a hug.

"They were never here sweetheart," Donna stated, "They were only in your imagination."

"A hallucination," the Doctor muttered. Wilf nodded his head. Sylvia stepped over to the high-strung Doctor.

"Do you want something to drink," She asked calmly. "Water?" The Doctor nodded his head and Sylvia went to the kitchen.

"Come on son," Wilf stated, "Let's get you to bed." Donna and Wilf led him up the stairs towards the guest bedroom. Sylvia followed them up with a glass of water. They sat the shaky Doctor down onto the bed and Donna pulled the duvet away before fluffing the pillows. The Doctor sat at the edge and Wilf struggled to get him out of his pinstripe jacket.

"Are you wearing an undershirt?" Wilf asked. The Doctor nodded. Sylvia came forward and kneeled down next to the Doctor. She moved the glass over to his lips and poured a bit of water into his mouth. He took the glass and finished it off and Wilf took off his long white shirt and tie. Donna laid him down on the soft pillows, pulling the duvet over him. The Doctor stared blankly at the ceiling, only blinking every few seconds.

"He's absolutely filthy," Sylvia hissed at Donna, but Donna could here the concern in her mother's voice. "Maybe we can get him in the shower later." Donna nodded her head, tucking the Doctor in. He had not said one word the whole time.

The Doctor's head snapped over towards Donna. "The TARDIS," the Doctor murmured, "We need to move the TARDIS. She doesn't like being alone for long. She'll get scared." The Doctor jerked as if to get out of bed but Donna pushed him back down against the pillows.

"It's ok, Spaceman," she hushed, "Me and Gramps will take care of her."

"But you need my help," the Doctor replied. Donna shook her head.

"No we don't," Donna responded, "Just relax. We'll get the neighbors to help alright?" The Doctor nodded his head and snuggled back under the green duvet. Wilf stepped forward and brushed the Doctor's hair out of his face.

"Everything will be alright Doctor. You'll see," Wilf stated, "Sylvia's going to stay with you, so you don't feel alone." Wilf turned to his daughter. "Isn't that right sweetheart?" Sylvia nodded her head and pulled over a chair. Wilf could tell she was still in shock from witnessing the Doctor's episode. Which was good because she wouldn't nag at the poor man.

Donna stepped away from the Doctor, smoothing his hair back. The Doctor owlishly blinked at her.

"Donna do you think I'm going to be fine," the Doctor whispered, "Because if I'm seeing hallucinations..." Donna covered his mouth, halting the nervous rant.

"You'll be fine Doctor," Donna stated, "I promised you already that I'd find out what's wrong. Just try to relax for now and I'll be back soon." Donna turned out of the bedroom door with Wilf following her. She spotted her mother fussing over the Doctor before she closed the door.

* * *

Donna and Wilf headed down the stairs, before they stopped in front of the entrance to put on their shoes. They did not speak once, their minds preferring to muse over the situation. They exited the house and stepped out through the gates and onto the sidewalk. The wind swept Donna's hair to the side as she pocketed her hands in the jacket she threw on. They strode quickly down the street before standing in front of the TARDIS. The blue box stood tall against the blowing wind but when Donna placed her hand against the blue wall, she felt the slow vibration emanating from the TARDIS. The vibration was a sickly hum and Donna could tell that the Old Girl was exhausted and ill. The last few jumps had taken a lot out of her and Donna knew she needed to rest.

"How are we going to move her sweetheart," Wilf asked, "She's too heavy to lift or push." Donna shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know. I thought of asking a few neighbors to move her," Donna replied. Wilf nodded his head and glanced along the street. A jogger ran pass them oblivious about the blue box's presence. "I guess the Doctor did switch on the perception filter." A half smile flitted across Donna's face, before she turned to her Gramps, who was staring at a specific redbrick house with smoke wafting from the chimney and a tow truck parked to the side.

"I know Jeff Darson has a tow truck," Wilf stated, "He owns a towing company." Donna raised an eyebrow, before crossing the street, and jogging over to the house. Wilf quickly followed, avoiding the car that was pulling out of the driveway next door.

Donna rapidly knocked on the burnt red door as she waited for an answer. She was about to knock again when the door was jerked open and a white haired man with shaving cream frothing his face stepped out.

"Donna Noble," he exclaimed, "Where have you been. Haven't seen you in months." Donna smiled in greeting as her grandfather arrived behind her. He waved at the slightly chubby man.

"Hey Jeff," Wilf greeted, "How's your morning been?" Jeff shook Wilf's hand vigorously with his much larger hand.

"Great. Me and the Misses spent a wonderful morning together," he replied. There was a bit of scrounging around behind him before a fat calico quickly sped out of the house with a loud bang following. "What do you two need?"

"I was wondering if you could tow something to our yard," Donna stated, "It's a little heavy and I think we need a little help moving it." Jeff nodded his head good naturedly before using the green towel that was draped over his shoulder, wiping his face clean. "Yeah, I can help you! Just let me get dressed first." He shut the door loudly.

"Thanks Jeff," Wilf shouted, before he turned a worried gaze on Donna. Donna noticed the gaze immediately instead focusing on the potted plant placed on the right side of the door.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Donna stated, "But I can't tell him there's no hope. It would ruin him." Wilf pulled Donna into a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

"It's not uncommon for people to see hallucinations of their tormentors after a tragic event," Wilf stated, "I saw it happen many times after the war. But many soldiers healed, though the process was slow." Donna nodded her head.

"And I know the Doctor has many tormenting memories that aren't all based on the Underground," Donna replied. "I'm just scared that all these bad events will build up and ruin him."

"I don't think so," he stated, "I believe the Doctor is a lot stronger then he gives himself credit for. We'll just be here for him, even when times get tough."

"Thanks Gramps," Donna replied. She cuddled close to her grandfather, smelling the light scent of smoke on his jacket. She missed that smell and it was a smell that she associated with home and the memories of her Grandfather smoking a pipe while sitting on a bench. The door opened up and Jeff strode out in a white shirt, overalls, and a beanie.

"Where is this mystery thing you want me to tow," he asked. The three quickly walked down the steps towards the tow truck.

"This way," Donna stated. The tow truck engines switched on with a loud snort and a blow of black smoke.

* * *

The Doctor leaned against the wall, watching Donna, Wilf, and some other man move the TARDIS. He wasn't sleepy. Well that was a lie. He was bloody tired. But every time he closed his eyes flashbacks of his old cell and the white walls of the Underground would startle him awake. So, he didn't sleep. Not that he ever slept before. He was always awakened from some dark memory of his past and he found that it was better to stay awake until exhaustion took over. He sat on the windowsill, pressing his nose against the glass and listened to the loud snort of the tow truck. They had wrapped a giant chain around the Old Girl and were steadily lifting her up onto the truck.

"If you're awake you mind as well eat something," Sylvia stated. She flipped through her book, her eyes scanning the next page.

"I'm not hungry," he replied, wrapping his long arms around his legs. Sylvia shot him a glare and slammed her book on the bedside table, making the Doctor tense from the loud noise.

"Oh, of course you're not," she responded sarcastically, "It's not like you've eaten a proper meal in a while." She got up from her chair and headed towards the door. "I'm bringing up your breakfast from earlier today and I expect you to eat it. God knows you need the nutrients."

She loudly stomped down the stairs and he could hear the loud banging of silverware and plates. The Doctor rolled his eyes and went back to watching Donna and Wilf outside. A huge group of neighbors had gathered around the tow truck and were watching the truck and the TARDIS curiously.

"Humans,"he muttered. He heard Sylvia stomp back up stairs, slamming his door open and placing the platter of food on the bed and the cup of orange juice on the bedside table. She pulled a small table and chair over and turned to the Doctor with her hands on her hips.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast," she ordered, "I want to see meat on that skinny frame by tomorrow. Don't you dare pick at the food mister. I want to see all that go into your mouth." The Doctor lightly touched the ground with his bare feet and shuffled over to the table. Sylvia pulled out the chair and he sat down. She handed him a fork before crossing her arms and waiting for him to take a bite. The Doctor hesitantly nibbled at the eggs, chewing slowly and swallowing.

"Done," he said, trying to get out.

"No you're not," she nagged, pushing him back down. "I would've thought you wanted to eat after everything you've been through." The Doctor sighed defeated and slowly began eating the breakfast in front of him.

"Good," Sylvia stated, before picking up the book she was reading. "And after that you need a bath or shower of some sort. You're absolutely filthy." The Doctor paled considerably and shook his head.

"No, please not today," he said with trepidation, "Maybe tomorrow. Yeah tomorrow would be better." Sylvia gave him a hard glare before she nodded her head.

"Fine, tomorrow then," she stated. She went back to reading her book as the Doctor sighed in relief and went back to his meal. He listened to the shouting and instructions going on outside and the loud rumble of the tow truck.

* * *

**Thanks to all who read this chapter. :) I appreciate it immensely. Yes, the Doctor does seem to be getting worse, but everything will be explained. I already have it all planned out. Thank you again for reviewing and supporting my developing writing skills. :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to those who reviewed, I appreciate it immensely. :) Well, here's the next chapter. The mystery will be introduced around the fifth or sixth chapter. :) Hope you enjoy. :) **

Chapter 3

Donna laid still in her bed unable to sleep. She was constantly awakened by the nightmares that bombarded her soul. She pulled the covers close to her chin and closed her eyes. But as soon as she closed her eyes the mental image of the bland, white cell, the Doctor being punished, and him killing that one alien jolted her awake. Her teeth chattered in trepidation. The Doctor wasn't the only one mentally affected by the Underground and there was no way of escaping the memories since she had lived through it. She sat up in her bed, switching on the light before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was clothed in a light blue nightgown and her ginger hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

She had spent most of the morning and afternoon situating the TARDIS in the shed, making sure the beloved ship was warm and comfortable before she headed back indoors to witness a sight that she would never thought could happen. Her Mother was sitting across from the Doctor, pointing out the bits of food that the Doctor had missed on his plate. He had given Donna a pained expression as if he was enduring some torturous method instead of her mother behaving friendly towards him. She even refilled his cup with juice and piled more food onto his empty plate. Donna smiled at the memory. It was nice seeing her normally harsh mother being gentle with the Doctor. He really did need it, even though he wouldn't admit it. He probably needed it even before the Underground events.

She had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening, watching movies or playing games with her spaceman and he luckily didn't have another psychotic episode like the one this morning. He did, though,reacted irritably over silly comments or motions that normally wouldn't flare his temper. Like her winning a boardgame, thanks to a few lucky rolls. He had shouted in rage, tossing the game across the livingroom floor before stomping off in a huff. That was extremely abnormal to his normally playful and friendly behavior. A while later, he came back calm and apologetic about losing his temper before he flopped back onto the ground, laying flat on his stomach.

Another thing that concerned Donna was the Doctor's sudden fear of going outdoors that had developed throughout the day. She had asked if he wanted to go outside and explore the backyard or go on a walk, but he immediately said 'no.' For the first time, the Doctor didn't want to go outside and he kept on looking out the window as if people...specifically soldiers...were going to invade the house and attack him and the Nobles. She had never seen him paranoid but knew it was from the trauma he had suffered from at the hands of the Underground. He just needed to heal, that's all.

Donna leaned back against the headboard and sighed. She glanced around her cluttered room and smiled. It was the same way she had left it before she went sleuthing through Adipose while at the same time meeting up with the Doctor for a second time. It was nice to know her Mum cared enough to leave everything in her room alone.

She heard a whimper and a frown slowly shaped her face as she kicked off the covers of her bed and slipped into a bathrobe. She heard the whimper again followed by a strangled cry. Donna immediately knew who it was and she quietly switched off the light in her room and tip-toed out the door. She wandered down the hall and softly gripped the knob. The door creaked open and Donna entered the Doctor's room.

The moaning was a lot louder in the room and covers were strewn and twisted on the ratty bed. But Donna didn't care, her focus was on the squirming and moaning man. Sweat beaded his forehead and his teeth gritted in fear as he fought off the monsters from the dark recesses of his mind. She quietly stepped over and placed a warm, soft hand on the Doctor's forehead. The Doctor screamed and kicked out, punching at something that wasn't there and Donna backed off.

"Poor spaceman," she muttered. She quietly shushed him, sweeping back wet-slicked hair. "It's ok Doctor. It's me, Donna. Nothing's going to hurt you." The Doctor twisted, screaming louder and the sharp screech pierced Donna's eardrums painfully.

She grabbed his arms as his body convulsed and a quick mantra of pleading left his lips. Donna's heart broke for the damaged man and she softly spoke to him, hoping that she could pull him out of the terrifying nightmare that held him in its demonic grasp.

"Boy, Spaceman you have a lot of demons to fight off," Donna muttered sadly.

The man in question let out another scream before he jolted awake, scrambling around on the sweat soaked bed and falling over the edge. Donna immediately ran towards the sprawled figure on the ground, who breathed heavily in exhaustion. She kneeled down and pulled him into her arms.

"The Underground," she asked. The Doctor shrugged, burying his head under her chin.

"Somewhat," he replied. He gave a bitter laugh that came out more as a winded gasp. "I-It was a mix between the Underground and the..." He drifted off after that, instead staring at the light green curtains that darkened the room. Donna smoothed his hair back and sighed.

"What else Doctor," Donna asked and the Doctor shrugged unconcerned.

"Nothing. None of your business," he muttered, "Just more tragedies in my pathetic life." Donna rolled her eyes and pulled him close.

"Sorry," she muttered. She knew exactly what other memory he was suffering from and it was a memory that she wished had never occurred. For the Doctor's sake and for that whole alien race that lost their lives in that horrible war.

"Not your fault," the Doctor responded, "Just life." He picked himself up off the floor and heavily plopped back onto the bed. Life just never gave the poor Time Lord a break. He rubbed his eyes and Donna could see a wet tear glistening in the corner. "Sorry for waking you up."

Donna flopped down next to him and bit her lip. "Already awake," she responded, "couldn't sleep."

The Doctor nodded his head, glancing down at his fingers. "Sorry." Donna shrugged, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine," she stated, "We survived that's all that matters." The Doctor sighed and glanced over at the wet bed covers that were twisted and contorted in every direction.

"Guess I should go to bed," he muttered. He stood up and lifted the heavy covers, before Donna placed a soft hand on his arm.

"You can sleep with me tonight," she offered, "I really can't sleep alone at the moment." The Doctor nodded his head in agreement.

"Alright," he agreed, dropping the wet covers. Donna gave him a sharp look.

"No funny business," she stated, crossing her arms, and the Doctor gave a half smile.

"Of course not." Donna bobbed her head, content with the answer before dragging him back towards her room. She made a bathroom stop, bringing the Doctor inside.

"Sit down," she ordered. She grabbed a washcloth, wetting it down. She turned towards the Doctor who was sitting on the toilet between the bright pink shower curtain and the white sink. Using the cloth, she wiped the sweat away before pulling him up to his feet and dumping the cloth into the shower.

"Thank you," he muttered. She switched off the light and led him into her room.

The Doctor stood inside awkwardly. Unsure of what to do with himself. Donna quickly fluffed the pillows and pulled over the covers, pulling the light red duvet down.

"Come on spaceman," she stated, "In you go." The Doctor climbed into bed, curling around one of the white pillows and leaning his head on a second. She climbed in on the other side, staring into his brown orbs.

"Good night Spaceman," she said. The Doctor nodded his head sleepily, yawning.

"Night," he replied simply. His eyes drifted close and Donna watched as he fell asleep. She turned over, switching off the light, a soft smile playing on her lips. She fell asleep to the soft breathing of the sleeping Doctor. For the first time in a long time she peacefully slept.

* * *

Wilfred Mott wandered down the halls early the next morning to check on the Doctor and then his granddaughter. When he opened the door to the Doctor's room, it was empty. All that was inside was the strewn sweat covered covers and feathers that settled on the ground. He closed the door obviously worried, before heading down the hall towards Donna's room. What met his eyes made him smile, washing away any distressed feelings he held. Donna and the Doctor were wrapped in each others arms, deeply asleep with matching peaceful looks on their faces. He could hear the quiet snorts of slumber as the two friends protected each other from the monsters in their minds. Wilf closed the door quietly before tip-toeing back to his room.

* * *

**Wow, two chapters in one day. I'm on a roll. Thank to the lack of homework and the great amount of freetime I had to write two chapters. Yeah, I know short but there's not much you can do with a bedtime chapter. Again thank you for all the amazing support and encouragement. Hope you review. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I really do love getting them every morning. They make me really happy. Well here's the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy. Oh, I also want to give a special thanks to thisdayandage for helping me with my grammar and sentence structures. It's always hard to find those pesky mistakes. So, thank you. Anywho, please review. They really encourage me to update. :)**

Chapter 4

The pitter patter of water drops pounded in the Doctor's ears like an orchestra of drums, or the loud banging of thunder from a raging storm. His eyes widened and his hearts raced in fear. He stood in the middle of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his skinny waist, faced with one of his greatest anxieties, the shower. The Doctor's breath hitched and his hands trembled, feet shuffling from side to side, like a cornered animal. What was he doing here? He was already freaking out about being in the cramped bathroom, without needing to go into an even smaller space, with pounding water to add.

The Doctor closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm his speeding hearts. When he opened his brown orbs, he gasped as he watched the water slice through the air, like little knives. The sound of water hitting tile drummed louder, to his sensitive ears. The Doctor backed away. He could hear the cruel laughter of his tormentors and his eyes widened. A flashback had pulled him into its cruel and biting clutch.

* * *

_The Doctor curled around his injured torso, trying to protect himself from the cruel attacks of his tormentors. The Major was not pleased with his performance for the day and had ordered several of the guards to punish him for his failure. He hadn't gotten through the course in time. Tripping up several times, before falling on his already bruised knees had resulted in him returning late and his current punishment. When a kick struck him in the shoulder, a hiss initiated from The Doctor and he tucked his head further into his safety ball. _

_The assault soon ended and the guards backed away. One tugged him up by his hair and pulled him to his knees. The guard yanked his hair harder, forcing his head back awkwardly and uncomfortably. Blood dribbled from his swollen lip and his face was painted a dark purple, in certain areas. The guard pulled harder, causing the Doctor to yelp in pain from the manhandling abuse. His Adam's apple bobbed as a dark figure approached him. Major Johnson came into view, looking stoic, with his hands crossed behind his back. He gave the Doctor a look of distaste and hate. The Doctor kept his mouth shut, fear telling him not to speak. It would be unwise to speak. He groaned again as the guard yanked harder. His hand slowly reached up, but was soon slapped away, with a heavy kick to the guts, added for good measures._

"_That's enough," The Major gruffly ordered. The Guard then backed away, while the one tugging on the Doctor's hair let go. The Doctor fell back to the floor, quickly curling into a fetal position. He hated himself. He hated his weakness and the fear he felt, caused by a bunch of humans. He was a Time Lord for Rassilon's sake. They were ants compared to him. Or were they? Maybe he had been kidding himself this whole time. He knew he wasn't anything special. He was a nobody, from a planet that didn't exist anymore. The Doctor's hearts sank. Yes, he was nothing, but he couldn't stop. He had to save Donna and the others first. Then, once they were safe, he could not care less about what happened to him._

"_Get to your knees, subject 13," the Major snarled. The Doctor slowly crawled back to his knees. The hard floor dug into his swollen kneecaps. He placed his hands onto his lap and focused on a small spot on the floor. His hair was growing a bit long and rugged and his fringe covered his brown eyes. It was slick and greasy, from the lack of bathing that he been allowed. Even his nose curled, from his growing, ripe scent. He felt filthy and he hated it, but he deserved it. He deserved this treatment completely._

_The Doctor's fingers fiddled as the Major circled him, with brown eyes that penetrated the Doctor's skull. The Doctor squirmed under the scrutinizing gaze. He felt the need to run, but knew his punishment would be even worse than before, if he did. He felt long, strong fingers grip his greasy brown hair and force his head back once more. The Doctor's mouth gaped from the sudden pain and he felt tears prickle his eyes. The Major yanked harder, tugging on the large bump on his head. He had gained the bump when he first hit the floor and a baton was driven against his skull._

"_Next time I want you to move faster," the Major stated coldly. "I want to see you hustle. You're a weapon, a tool and when we send you out on missions, mistakes like this can..." The Major tugged on the Doctor's hair a little harder than necessary and the Doctor screwed his eyes shut in pain. "..Not happen. Is that understood?" The Doctor's eyes snapped open from another painful tug and a warning kick to the side. He let out an agonized gasp, before glancing up at the expectant gaze of Major Johnson._

"_Y-yes, s-sir," he stuttered out, through gritted teeth. The Major released his hair, before wiping his hands off on his pants and giving the Doctor a distasteful look._

"_Disgusting," he said with extreme disdain, shaking his hand off "Absolutely disgusting." He sneered, at the Doctor, who panted in obvious pain, at his feet. "You filthy animal," he spat, "When was the last time you were cleaned?" The Doctor cringed at the harsh words and felt his already low self-esteem hit rock bottom. He knew he was filthy. It was quite obvious. But the Major pointed it out to make sure the Doctor knew where he was at on the Underground status pyramid. To them, he was considered less than a slave and even less than a dog. He had seen the dogs they kept, during one of his training sessions. They had been well fed and aggressive. The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, wishing the floors would just swallow him. At least he'd be able to escape the humiliation._

_Major Johnson turned to two of the guards. "Take subject 13 to the showering room..." He glanced down at the Doctor with a distasteful sneer. "I'm tired of filth." There was a quick 'yes, sir' before he was lugged up by two guards and forced out the door._

_The Doctor's gaze never left the floor. He was humiliated, exhausted, and injured. He knew the shower room would only injure his mind even more. He had already associated showers...or hosing...whatever they wanted to call it as something horrible. This was pretty accurate, considering how they went about cleaning him._

_The Doctor was dragged into the cement room and thrown against the wall. He grunted as his body slid down to the floor. One of the guards intimidatingly loomed over him, as the other grabbed the high powered hose._

"_Strip," the guard barked. The Doctor immediately got to his feet and began to strip off his sweat and blood soaked clothes, throwing them into a corner. He wrapped his arms around his bare torso, shivering from fear and the cold combined. He glanced over at the guard, who glared icily at him with a sadistic grin on his face. The Doctor decided it was best to focus on the stain smudge on the floor._

_Without warning, a powerful blast of ice-cold water threw him against the wall and the Doctor gurgled in surprise as the water pounded into his already abused body. His body was shoved against the wall as the water bashed him. Blood and dirt that was once crusted all over him, peeled off his bruised skin. The Doctor's tears mixed with the beating water and he sobbed out as more water forced him to the ground. His eyes squeezed shut at the water, which rushed down his face and entered his nose and mouth. The sensation was like drowning._

_The guards finally turned the water off, which left a soaking wet, sobbing Doctor. He curled up against the wall as water droplets fell down his face and body. He shivered as the cold wet cement leeched into his skin, freezing his bones. Brown eyes, now swollen red from crying, flitted over to the captors. One of the men was approaching him, with a bar of soap. The Doctor gulped, tightening the protective ball, he had created. Tears slid down his face as he was aggressively yanked up. Lumpy soap was lathered all over his body and rubbed into his hair. The guard released him and he fell back to his stomach covered in scentless soap and drenched in cold water._

_The squeak of the faucet signaled that the water was being turning back on. Once again, he was left cringing against the water as it once again hit his body with a powerful blow. Soapy water splattered down onto the cement floor, before it flowed down into the drain. His brown hair was flat against his head. Water was caught in his lungs, causing him to cough violently. The hose finally turned off and the sound of it rolling away rattled along the floor. The Doctor coughed some more. Brutal shivers wracked his body. A towel was thrown at him and he was ordered to dry._

_He got to his feet, taking the raggedy towel and rubbing it against his wet body and hair. He would not face the guards. He just couldn't. Embarrassment had turned his cheeks a bright pink, which could not be hidden._

"_Ahhh, did we embarrass the wittle alien?" one of the guards mockingly asked. "Did we hurt its wittle feelings?"_

"_I think we did," the other guard joined in with the humiliating teasing. "Look at it. I think it's trying to cry." The other guard laughed at the thought._

"_Of course it can't cry. It's an alien," he stated. "Only humans can cry." The Doctor kept his head turned from the ignorant mockery, continuing to dry himself off. He ignored the inappropriate offhand comments the guards threw at him. Although proving to be difficult, he tried to keep a look of defiance. Dropping the wet towel, he glanced around for some clothes. Finding nothing, he wrapped his arms around his chest for security._

"_Can I have the pants and sh-shirt p-please," he asked, between his chattering teeth. The guards glanced over at him, surprised that he had spoken._

"_What did you say, freak?" one of the guards asked, with a sneer. The Doctor swallowed heavily and glanced away from his antagonizers._

"_C-clothes," he said again. The guards glared at him, before moving closer. The Doctor couldn't help but flinch, from the close proximity of the two guards._

"_You think you deserve clothes alien," a guard said, cruelly. The Doctor nodded his head. "Well, guess what? Maybe, I decided you don't deserve them. Clothes are a privilege and I think you lost that right, after that terrible training session." The Doctor closed his eyes and took deep breaths through his __nose, trying to calm his flaring temper, caused from the pain and humiliation. What did these people want him to do? Beg. But he knew that was exactly what they wanted. _

_He fought between the two ideas of either begging, or accepting his loss and marching away, with whatever shred of dignity he had left. Begging could quite possibly get him clothes, but then again, they might just want to humiliate him even more. While on the other hand, he could go back to his cell naked and not be upset by his pathetic begging. He knew that he could not get both. Bowing his head, he tried to think up the answer, as the two guards laughed like hyenas. The Doctor did know for sure, that showering would never be a pleasant experience for him, ever again._

* * *

The Doctor flew back, startled from the sudden flashback that had taken over. He began to hyperventilate. Glancing around the room, he expected to see the two guards standing behind him. No one was there. But he knew they had to be. He just saw them. They must be hiding. They had to be. The Doctor stepped cautiously over to the shower curtain and flipped it open, but jumped back when he saw the pounding water. A silent scream left his mouth and he stepped back hitting the sink and knocking a bunch of bathroom materials onto the ground, with a loud clang. The Doctor squeaked, as he dove down to pick up the fallen materials and in the process knocked down the towels. The Doctor gripped the towel rack, pulling himself up, but it broke off the wall and fell to the floor as well. The Doctor began to panic.

"No, no, no," he frantically whispered. He picked up the towel rack, which swung around, getting tangled in the shower curtain. When the Doctor yanked, the whole shower curtain came off, which caused the Doctor to panic even more.

"No," he shrieked. "Rassilon No! I'm going to be in huge trouble..." the Doctor paused, gulping. He thought about how Sylvia would react and he wasn't too pleased at the outcome. He picked up the screws from the ground and tried to get the rack back on the wall, but the screws kept on slipping out of his hands. He felt tears prickle at his eyes as the bathroom became messier. "Please don't do this to me!" The towel slid down his hips and he was pulling it up, when a sharp knock came from behind the door. In his overwhelming panic, the Doctor did not hear it.

Donna threw open the door and gasped as she witnessed the bathroom's state and the skinny spaceman, on the floor, trying to put up the towel rack, while also trying to keep the towel secured around his waist. He glanced over at Donna with shocked eyes and leapt to his feet. In the process, the towel slipped from his waist, exposing him. The Doctor blushed in embarrassment, trying to cover himself.

"Donna! Get out!" he shouted, his voice tinted with humiliation. "Don't you know how to knock?!" Donna's hand flew over her eyes and she turned away from the red faced Time Lord. She heard struggling in the background and what sounded like cursing, followed by a bang and a loud yelp. Donna couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up her throat. This was the most ridiculous situation she had ever been in.

"I did knock, Spaceman," she retorted. "You just didn't answer. I got worried and came in." She heard more grumbling and banging around and a smirk curved her lips. "Are you decent?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said, gruffly. His voice was choked, with humiliation. Donna turned around to face the flustered spaceman and she covered her mouth, trying to hold back the laughter. "Don't laugh," he said, sourly.

"Oi, lighten up Martian-boy," Donna retorted. She glanced around at the destroyed bathroom with amusement. Bathroom appliances were all over the floor, the towel rack was leaning against the floor with the towels underneath it and the shower curtain was ripped clear off. The only culprit was the man standing in the middle of the bathroom, trying to keep his towel around his waist. "You did quite a number. How did you manage it?"

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced down at the floor. His cheeks were a rosy pink and his brown orbs downcast.

"Please don't tell your mother," he begged. He turned his puppy dog eyes on her, pleading for mercy. Donna laughed. She couldn't help it. The whole situation was ridiculous and the amusement bubbled from her chest. Soon she heard a softer laugh join hers. She glanced at the Doctor, who had an amused smile on his face.

"Spaceman, I can't take you anywhere," she retorted, before leaning down and picking up the screws. "Come on. Let's get this cleaned up." The Doctor joined her and they soon picked up all the bathroom supplies and collected all the screws. The Doctor threw the shower curtain over the rack and turned to face Donna, who was busily trying to get the towel rack back on the wall. The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, once more.

"Thanks," he said. "I really messed up this time, huh?" Donna rolled her eyes.

"You are such a Dumbo," she retorted, good naturedly. "It's fine. All cleaned up and now you need a shower." The Doctor froze on the spot, like a deer caught in headlights. He tugged at his hair, shifting from foot to foot.

"Do I really need a shower?" he asked. "I'm fine without one -quite brilliant, actually. Kind of like the natural smell. It's all wilderness and stuff. I think everyone should keep their natural smell." Donna's eyebrow shot up and she crossed her arms.

"Cough it up spaceman," Donna replied. "What happened?" The Doctor shrugged, before the light fixture on the mirror caught his attention.

"You know that light bulb's a little crooked. You might want to fix it," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Doctor," Donna replied, sternly. The Doctor sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, for the third time.

"I s-saw the guards from the U-Underground," he responded, "-Just startled me." Donna's features softened and she nodded her head in understanding.  
"You still need to take a shower though," she stated. The Doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"I prefer a sponge bath."

"You can't get completely clean with just a sponge bath," Donna retorted. The Doctor turned a pleading gaze at her and Donna relented. "Fine, do what you like." She picked up the Doctor's discarded clothes. "I'm going to get these clean. In the meantime, there are sweatpants and a t-shirt on the bed." Donna left the room and the Doctor, once again, was alone. He sighed deeply, glancing around the bathroom, before grabbing the hand towels and wetting them down. He proceeded in sponging himself clean, in hopes that it would appease Sylvia. He would just have to conquer the shower another time.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that chapter and I thank you for reviewing the last one. It was a bitter-sweet ending. I don't know when I'll post the next chapter but I hope soon. I just got lucky this week, but I plan on writing as much as I can. Please review and tell me what you think. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to those who reviewed and favorited my story. It's really encouraging. I also want to think thisdayandage for betaing. Well, here's chapter 5. Hope you read and enjoy. :)**

Chapter 5

Sylvia Noble aggressively cut the carrots on the tray as she prepared dinner. A chicken and potatoes were cooking in the oven and a salad all made up. All she needed to do was steam some carrots and dinner was ready. She heard the floor creak as the Doctor, clad in sweats and a t-shirt, slowly shuffled past the door of the kitchen. Sylvia sighed. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the young man. Being kidnapped and tortured for two months was probably very damaging to him, physically and mentally. She turned back to the carrots she was slicing. He had been with them for a few days now and she was growing use to his constant shadowing presence. He didn't speak much to anyone and refused to leave the house whenever Donna offered. He just depressingly wandered around the house, poking at objects or reading books.

He had refused to change back into his old clothes, complaining that they weren't him anymore and that he had no right to wear them. Donna had held his suit close and Sylvia couldn't help but notice the devastation in her daughter's eyes. Donna had soon left and the Doctor had gone back to sitting in the corner of the living room, drawing lazy circles into the floor. She had concluded that the clothes were what made the Doctor, the Doctor and his refusal to wear them was basically his proclamation against whatever he used to do. Sylvia wasn't a stupid woman and she knew a young man like that wouldn't randomly get kidnapped off the streets, unless he was in some sort of dangerous business. Considering how much he traveled and how secretive Donna behaved when talking about him, Sylvia wondered if he was a government spy or something like that. She could not help but feel out of the loop.

Pulling out another carrot, she began slicing it into smaller bits. That theory would explain why he was kidnapped and tortured. Maybe they wanted information out of him? Thinking back to the second time she met him, Sylvia recalled he had been trying to stop the gas from leaving the cars. If she went back even further, he had been shrouded in mystery even at her daughter's wedding. He had known exactly what to do when the ornaments on the tree exploded and he was wearing that suit all three times. Maybe it was his uniform? Sylvia shrugged, huffing in irritation. There was no way of getting the information out of the Doctor or Donna, if they didn't want to give it. She preferred not to push the young man too hard, considering everything he had been through. It would be detrimental to his healing. Although she was fairly unconfident that he would fully heal and be the way he was before. But what did she know? Spies or government agents were probably trained to bounce back quickly and move on.

Glancing over at the Doctor sprawled on the couch, Sylvia made up her mind. She was tired of seeing him sulk and laze about. It was time for him to socialize a bit. He could help around the house like the rest of the family, even if it meant cutting a few carrots, or setting the table. Putting the knife down, she turned to the man on the couch, placing her hands on her hips.

"Doctor," She shouted. The Doctor jumped off the couch, startled. His eyes blinked rapidly and he shifted from foot to foot. It seemed as if he were evaluating the situation he was in and deciding whether or not to run. "Get in here, Mister, and help me with the cooking. I don't like laziness and I think it's about time you pulled your own weight." Noticing the nervous look he gave her, she could not help but worry if she was a little too harsh with him.

The lanky man shuffled into the room, his hands firmly stuffed into his baggy sweat pants and his t-shirt hung loosely off his shoulders. Brown untamed hair hung over one of his eyes and he bit his lips uncomfortably from the attention she gave him. He definitely looked different from the last time she met him. Any trace of that confident, arrogant spark was no longer present in his brown orbs. With his skinny frame hunched over slightly, he held himself like a man who had suffered through too much. Sylvia turned away, with a sniff. Opening the oven, she scrutinized the cooking chicken, before moving the potatoes around. There was the quiet touch of bare feet on tile floor, as the Doctor made his way over to the counter.

"What do you need me to do?" he softly asked, careful not to meet Sylvia's eyes, as she turned to meet him. Sylvia sighed again. It was worse than she thought. She had noticed the Doctor had come to the conclusion that she was an authority figure, the one in charge. He would behave differently around her than he normally would towards her Father, or Donna. Submitting before her, he waited for her to tell him what to do. Whatever those horrible people did to him, they must have drilled it into his head that he was less than a human being, which was terrible but not unheard of. Her heart clenched every time she saw him. The once intelligent and cheeky man, now nothing more than a discarded broken case of what he used to be. But Sylvia Noble wasn't going to allow that. She was going to put him back together, to the best of her abilities, even if it meant being a bit naggy and critical. In the past few days, she had grown to care for him. This was quite a surprise, considering it snuck up on her.

"Oh, just finish cutting the carrots," she stated, "I need to steam them for dinner." The Doctor compliantly nodded his head. Picking up the knife, he slowly began to slice the half-finished carrot, before putting it into the bowl. Sylvia observed the man's stance, smiling softly as she noticed the growing thoughtful look on his face. She hoped that giving him a task might pull him out of his melancholy state. The distasteful look on her face was something she could not help, when she noticed the long wild brown hair that hadn't been tended to for quite a while.

"You need a haircut," she stated matter-of-factly. The Doctor jumped at the sudden clipped tone of her voice and turned to her in surprise.

"What?" he asked, eyebrow quirked upwards in surprise. Sylvia scoffed and went back to cleaning the counters and washing a few of the dishes.

"You heard me," she responded with a scoff. "I said you needed a haircut. Honestly Doctor, if you're going to make me repeat..." She halted her rant when she noticed the Doctor pressing closer to the counter as if waiting to be slapped.

"I'm s-sorry," the Doctor stuttered. "I didn't mean to." His eyes were round like saucers and he looked ready to fall to his knees in submission.

"Well, I'm not going to slap you," Sylvia retorted. Uncomfortable with his reaction as she was, this only strengthened the nagging feeling in the back of her mind, that they needed professional help. If only Donna would find somebody sooner, then they could help him in the way he needed. "I only made a comment. But you do need a haircut. I might take you to a salon or something. You look like a bloody wild man."

The Doctor seemed to relax slightly, turning back to the carrots he was cutting. "No haircuts," he stated. His hand shook with trepidation and he leaned heavily on the counter. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"Well, I'm not going to let you live here looking like some person from the backwoods. What would people think of me? They'd assume I was neglecting you," She responded. In a quick movement she had grabbed the bowl full of carrots and dumped them into the pots.

"No, no, no," the Doctor grunted, his teeth clenched tightly and his whole body shook.

"Well, no need to get dramatic," Sylvia retorted, oblivious to the Doctor's sudden change in demeanor, since her back was turned. "I only suggested it."

"Please, Major," the Doctor begged. His eyes snapped open and he fell to the ground. His hand wrapped around the large kitchen knife. "I d-don't want to kill."

"Major," Sylvia questioned turning around. "What Major?"

"I AM NOT A KILLER," the Doctor shrieked. Leaping to his feet, he sent the knife hurling at the wall next to the door, just as Wilf sauntered in.

* * *

Wilf froze, just as the knife flew past his nose. With a soft smack, the tip embedded into the wall. His eyes widened at just how close he was to being killed. He gulped slightly as his old blue eyes turned to the sniveling Doctor on the floor. His Daughter was screaming in shock at the sudden violent and unpredictable attack. Time had seemed to slow down, before everything sped back to normal.

"Dad," Sylvia screamed, "Oh my God, he almost killed you." Sylvia ran over, throwing her arms around her father's neck. But Wilf, couldn't focus on his daughter's voice, his eyes kept turning to the Doctor rocking back and forth on the floor. He heard the heavy footsteps of Donna running down the stairs and heading into the kitchen.

"What happened," Donna shrieked, she glanced around the kitchen, noticing the knife embedded in the wall. Sylvia pulled away from her father, marching over to her daughter.

"_He _tried to kill your grandfather," Sylvia accused. "He freaked out when I suggested a haircut. Grabbed the knife and hurled it at your Gramps's head when he walked through the door." Wilf ignored the whole conversation as he kneeled down in front of the Doctor. The Doctor sniffed, drawing back from Wilf and pulling his legs closer to his chest.

"Hey, Doctor," Wilf said, quietly. "It's alright sweetheart. No harm done." The Doctor wasn't paying attention. He continued his rocking, crying hollowed sobs.

"I-I am not a k-killer, Major," the Doctor whispered. "Why are you making me a m-murderer?" Wilf placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, knowingly. The Doctor flinched, pulling away from the touch. "I-I d-didn't want to destroy those planets. It h-had to be done." Lifting his tear-covered face, the Doctor glanced at Wilf's soft forgiving eyes. "I don't want to k-kill people," the Doctor whispered, "It just happens." Wilf pulled the Doctor into his arms, rocking him back and forth.

"I know, son," Wilf responded, placing a gentle kiss on top of the Doctor's head. "I know." Donna sat down next to the two men and Sylvia followed closely behind. "It was just a flashback. They're gone."

"They're n-never gone," the Doctor responded. Donna softly laid a hand on the Doctor's head, before moving it down to her gramps's back. Curling her hand around the Doctor's baggy shirt, she leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

Sylvia sat down on the floor as well. The shock of the Doctor's sudden attack, subsiding. She had not realized he was going into a flashback, for if she did she would have tried to find a way to snap him out of it. She reached a hand over to him, but he flinched away from her touch.

"I'm not going to hurt you Doctor," She stated. "I forgive you. I just want to make sure you're alright." The Doctor slowly uncurled from Wilf's chest, looking at her with watery eyes. One eye was covered by his hair, making him appear more vulnerable than usual. Sylvia's heart broke for the suffering man. She didn't know what happened when a flashback occurred but knew it probably caused large amounts of damage to his already delicate mind. Pulling him into a forgiving hug, she held him close to her chest, as he cried from exhaustion and fear. Each time he had a flashback it would bring him back to the place that tortured him. He would feel all the emotions and pain he felt at the time, including seeing the people who tormented him. Each time they seemed to make any progress, a flashback or a hallucination would soon destroy it. It was frustrating. Sylvia, Donna, and Wilf didn't know how to help him or what methods to use. It was growing beyond their care, as he grew worse every day.

Getting free of her arms, he slowly began stumbling to his feet. Immediately, Donna jumped up to grab his arm and hold him steady.

"Come on sweetheart," Donna stated, comfortingly. "Let's go lie down." Slowly, she led the Doctor out of the room and up the stairs, her Mother and Gramps still sitting on the ground.

Sylvia listened for the quiet bang of the door shutting before turning to her father.

"What do we do, Dad?" she whispered, climbing to her feet. "He's getting worse every day and we can't keep taking care of him. He needs someone professional helping him." She strode over to the oven and pulled out the chicken and potatoes.

"Donna's working on it sweetheart," Wilf responded. He pulled the knife out and put it in the sink. "He just needs a little patience and kindness."

"He almost killed you," she stated as she peeled back the chicken making sure it was cooked. "A centimeter closer and you'd be dead." Wilf shrugged his shoulders.

"But I'm not dead," he replied. "And I can't get angry with him if he was suffering from a flashback. I've seen it enough times with old soldier buddies, who suffered from the war. I won't blame him for something he has no control over."

"But still," Sylvia retorted, carving the chicken. "Even if it was a flashback, he reacted violently. Who says he won't attack again?" She pulled out a carton of milk, glancing over at her father. "I like him Dad. I really do and I don't want to watch him suffer. But he's dangerous and unpredictable. Who's to say next time someone's not as lucky?" Wilf sighed, rubbing his chin. He knew Sylvia was right. Taking care of the Doctor is a huge responsibility. But he couldn't even begin to think of shipping him off to some psychiatric hospital. He really couldn't see the benefit in it. Plus the poor boy was frightened of being abandoned. How would sending him to some mental hospital cure him in any way?

Wilf collapsed into a chair. He didn't know what to do. No one knew what to do. They were stuck with an unstable alien, who had violent flashbacks.

* * *

**Thank you for reviewing. :) So, the next chapter will probably have Sylvia cutting the Doctor's hair, which was suggested by thisdayandage and I liked the idea. There will be a scene between the Doctor and Wilf as well. So, yeah as for time in the next chapter, probably about another two to three days have elapsed since this chapter. I hope you enjoyed. Please review. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate it. Well, here's the next chapter. :) Also, thank you to thisdayandage for looking over this chapter. :)Hope you all enjoy.**

Chapter 6

"Sylvia, I really don't need a haircut," the Doctor complained, while squirming in his seat. A towel was wrapped around his neck and his hair was slicked back, from the water Sylvia Noble squirted on it. He wasn't fond of haircuts. Well, not specifically haircuts, just the sharp objects that people used for haircuts. Easily, they could become tools of punishment. The feeling of being trapped in a chair wasn't nice either. But Sylvia would listen to none of his concerns. Once an idea popped into her head, there was no getting out.

"Hush you," she stated harshly. Her eyes were stern with determination, as she held the scissors over his raggedy hair. "You refused to leave the house, so now I have to cut it." She snipped at a bit of hair, but the Doctor jerked away in alarm. "I know how to cut hair," she snapped. "I've done it before. Quit moving, I might accidentally cut you."

Immediately, the Doctor froze, seizing all impatient movements. Both of his hands wrapped around the chair's arms tightly and he squeezed his eyes shut. Each rough strand and any bits that were unneeded were trimmed away by Sylvia.

"You act like the scissors are going to jump up and bite you," Sylvia grumbled. The Doctor turned his head slightly to glare, but Sylvia gave him a quick tap on the shoulder, halting his movement. "No moving. I don't want to take out a chunk."

"I'm more afraid of the person wielding the scissors," the Doctor retorted. "One slip and I can lose an eye or have a chunk of my ear cut off."

"You can go all Vincent van Gogh," Donna stated, wandering into the room. She leant herself on one of the kitchen chairs, watching the Doctor and her Mum.

"Yeah and then send my ear to my crush," the Doctor playfully replied, a hint of the old cheeky smile appearing. Sylvia tugged on his hair slightly and he hissed in discomfort, batting away her hand. Sylvia placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, if you wouldn't squirm so much," she replied to the hiss. "Honestly Doctor I need to tie you to the chair." She quickly went back to cutting. The Doctor glared at her, before turning to Donna, who giggled at the banter.

"I would like to see your credentials that qualify you to cut hair," the Doctor retorted, sarcastically. "Right, now I feel very unsafe." Sylvia scoffed in response, before clipping away the fringe and ruffling his hair. Turning the Doctor's head from side to side, she began clipping a few more parts. Donna leaned her elbows on the table.

"Donna, can you grab the razor," Sylvia stated. "I need to shave this patch off." She held out her hand and Donna handed her the razor. The Doctor immediately shrunk in his seat and squirmed when the razor turned on.

"Really Sylvia, do you think this is honestly necessary?" the Doctor replied. "Come on. Where would I go that requires a haircut? I sort of like my shaggy appearance. It makes me look manly." Sylvia rolled her eyes, shaving off the rougher spots she couldn't cut.

"Shush. I want to be able to see those brown eyes of yours," Sylvia responded. "And I'm sure you'll see a whole lot better with this hair out of your face." Feeling the cold metal on the back of his neck, The Doctor gave a squeak. Shaking her head, Donna laughed.

"You're such a baby," Donna responded to the little noise. "You haven't had a haircut for a while and you need one. You're beginning to look like the wolf-man. I miss your boyish features."

"What, you don't like the roughness?" the Doctor retorted, fake hurt in his voice. This banter was what she enjoyed. It was the first time, in a long time, that they had even had it. Seeming to have moved on from the kitchen incident a couple days ago, today the Doctor was expressing his 'before the Underground' personality. After the rough week of constant nightmares and flashbacks, this was nice. But she knew it wouldn't last and probably later on this evening, or even the next morning, he would be back to his depressing and nervous mood.

"No. You look weird, all scraggly and stuff," Donna stated, smacking him playfully, with a smile. Though making sure she didn't hurt or startle him. If she did cause a flashback, it wouldn't be pretty. They had been lucky so far, that the scissors and razor had not caused one thus far. It meant that they had not triggered him yet, but that could soon change.

"And stuff," the Doctor repeated, with a grin. "What other stuff?" An annoyed grunt came from Sylvia, when the Doctor squirmed to face Donna.

"Will you quit moving?" Sylvia snapped annoyed. The remark had caused the Doctor to become immediately clamped up, but Donna still noticed the playful energy in his eyes.

"Doctor, do you want to go out and do something today?" Donna asked in the hope that maybe he was in the right frame of mind to leave the house. That hope soon disappeared when the Doctor's eyes darkened and he glanced down at his hands.

"You mean outside?" he asked, flitting his eyes over to the window and back.

"Duh, what do you think going out means?" Donna retorted. "I was thinking, maybe we can buy you a new pair of shoes, or go out to dinner..." The Doctor shook his head rapidly, causing Sylvia to clip his neck slightly. Letting out a surprised yelp, his hand shot to his neck.

"No, no," the Doctor responded, swallowing thickly. "I think I prefer to stay home. Relax. Catch up on some reading. Anything we do out there, we can do here." His brown orbs focused on the corner of the wall. Stubbornly, he refused to look at Donna.

Donna glanced over at her mother and Sylvia nodded her head in understanding. It was quite obvious he was not ready to go out yet and Donna didn't want to push the matters. Shrugging her shoulders, she watched as the Doctor's jaw stubbornly set and his eyes danced with fear and distress.

"Fine, maybe we can watch a movie," Donna replied. The Doctor glanced at her and nodded his head, a quiet smile quirked his lips.

"Alright now that's settled," Sylvia said, interrupting the moment. "Doctor would you like your hair spiked up?" Indifferently, The Doctor shrugged and turned to watch the wall again. "Thanks for your help," Sylvia muttered, placing the scissors away.

"Mum, it will naturally stick up," Donna replied. "His hair defies the rules of gravity." An amused snort emitted from The Doctor. Donna ruffled his hair, which caused it to stick out in every known direction. "Nice haircut, skinny boy."

Worried, the Doctor glanced at her and ran his hand through his short hair. "Does it look bad?"

Donna shook her head. "Nah, it actually looks good on you -much better than your caveman style," to which the Doctor quirked an eyebrow, doubtfully. "No really, my mum did a great job."

"I believe I deserve a thank you," Sylvia stated, as she brushed back the Doctor's hair. Squinting, Sylvia shifted the Doctor's head back and forth, glancing over her work. "Not bad." Tossing the brush to the side, she stepped over to the refrigerator. "I'm going to start dinner. You two, shoo." She waved her hands and the Doctor jumped out of the seat, removing the towel. He left the kitchen, with Donna trailing after him.

* * *

The Doctor laid flat on his back, on the Noble's couch, a radio in his hands. After dinner, Sylvia had handed him a broken radio and clock, asking him to fix them. He couldn't help but oblige to the simple request. With a screwdriver in hand, he dismantled the radio before shuffling the bits and bobs around, searching for the issue. The TV played silently in the background. Some type of sitcom or another. Donna had switched it on, before leaving the room. Sighing, the Doctor reached over and grabbed the tweezers, proceeding to pull at the wiring. When finished, he then used the tool to tie everything back together nicely. He popped the back of the radio back into place, before turning the knob. The radio came to life and a news report played in the background. He switched it off, before placing it on the coffee table and rolling to his side.

He had finished the radio in less than ten minutes, as well as the clock. They were simple mistakes that were no struggle for the Time Lord. Glancing up at the ceiling, he stared at the tiny cracks. It was a nice day. He was not plagued by one flashback or extreme mood swing and he actually had time to think about stuff. Normally he was a nervous wreck and scared out of his wits about things that couldn't be controlled, that were only in his subconscious mind. But today, he felt good. Not great, but good. He just didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

Light footsteps pattered along the floor and Wilf entered the room in a beanie. When the Doctor's eyes spotted the beanie, he immediately grew mournfully sad. The black beanie reminded him of the one that Bobby used to wear, when he visited. Curling up into a tighter ball, the Doctor tried to fight off the tears that blurred his vision, as he thought of his dear friend.

"Hey Doctor," Wilf greeted, plopping himself down onto the couch next to the Time Lord. The Doctor shifted over before pulling himself into a sitting position, allowing Wilf more room.

"Hey," the Doctor replied, awkwardly. He never knew what to say anymore and it was strange. Normally, he would tell stories of his adventures, make a joke, or even try explaining the universe to the simpleminded humans, but he just didn't have the energy or motivation anymore. It just took up too much time to think up something. So he left the talking to Donna, Wilf or Sylvia, preferring to listen. Once in a while he would have something clever to say or want to throw his two cents in, but that was rare and today apparently was a rare day in his book.

The Doctor glanced out towards the window at the starry night that graced the skies. "Nice night," he stated, attempting a conversation. He just didn't know what to say anymore. Wilf nodded his head in agreement.

"Yep," Wilf replied. Leaning back, he glanced at the Doctor, who had a thoughtful expression. "Would you like to look at them with me?" The Doctor blinked out of his daydreaming, turning his gaze to Wilf.

"What?" He asked, wriggling awkwardly on the couch. He had heard the first time, but he just wanted to make sure he heard right before he answered.

"The stars," Wilf repeated. "Would you like to go up to the alcove and look at them with me?" Quickly, the Doctor shook his head.

"No, I-I'm alright," he replied. "I prefer to stay inside -'lot warmer." before mumbling. "And safer."

Face dropping, Wilf nodded and replied."Oh, ok." A thought popped into his head, to which his eyes brightened and he got off the couch. "Stay there Doctor. I have an idea." The Doctor just nodded his head as Wilf left the room. He wasn't going anywhere soon.

Leant back against the couch, he listened to the quiet chirps of insects outside and the banging of trashcans tipping over, as a fat cat leapt on top of them. Sighing again, The Doctor let his mind wander aimlessly. It was peaceful at night. He had always enjoyed the night and it wasn't just because of the stars. It was the peacefulness that he found when everyone was asleep.

He remembered when he was younger, how he used to sit up in his dorm room at the academy and watch the stars for hours as his roommates slept. It was the only time he could think and didn't have to worry about the everyday life in the great city, or the bullies and teachers that made his life more miserable than it needed to be. He had grown up a lot since then, now less naive to the universe out there. In fact, by now, he probably had more knowledge then the average Gallifreyan, thanks to his adventures. If they were still alive today, that is. The one thing he wished though was that his adventures were smoother. It seemed he could not have an adventure without pain and that's what made him tired. The constant hardship and despair he felt afterwards when he couldn't save someone or a plan didn't work out like how he wanted it too.

He thought about Donna, her compassion and everything else he loved about her. Her excitement towards the universe matched his. Plus she wanted to help everyone she came into contact with. Donna Noble was brilliant. Oh she wouldn't believe it, but she was. Many of the tiny issues that would bring him to a blank, were ones Donna could solve. He saw the big picture, but Donna brought the tiny missed details to attention. Together they painted a masterpiece. Honestly, she was his best friend. Though many would believe her loud and obnoxious, the Doctor had seen the softer side of her. The true side, she often hid behind her loud demeanor. That is the side he loved. She wasn't afraid to yell at him when he was wrong, or tell him he was rude and she pulled him out of his depressive demeanor. But she was struggling and he couldn't help her, because he didn't know how to help himself.

Oh, she tried to help him, wanting to take him places, but he was afraid. He was afraid of things that normally wouldn't scare him. He was even afraid of being in certain places of the house, so he kept to a few rooms. But the flashbacks and nightmares, the irregular emotions and hallucinations had taken a toll on his psyche. He was not the same man he used to be and probably never would be for a long time. Yes, he had been tortured before the Underground, but he always had a place to go back to, a home. But now he was alone and he didn't know where else to go. Yes, he had the Nobles but it wasn't the same. Everyone else he rescued had families of their own species, while he did not. Closing his eyes, The Doctor sighed deeply. He accepted the fact that he could not change the past. No one could.

A sudden clanging sound caused the Doctor's ears to perk up to attention, as something heavy was dragged back into the room. Loud grunts of struggle snapped his brown eyes open. Wilf came in, with a telescope dragging behind him. He grunted a bit louder, placing it in front of the window, before opening the glass windows and letting the cold night draft enter the room. When he turned to the Doctor, a bright grin lit up his whole face.

"Problem solved," he exclaimed. "Would you care to join me Doctor?" Smiling, The Doctor got up off his seat and shuffled over to be by Wilf and glance at the large telescope.

"You brought this here for me," the Doctor replied with awe. Wilf nodded his head, smiling.

"Of course I would," he replied. "I wanted to watch the stars with you. How about you point out a few galaxies and planets you took my Donna too?" The Doctor nodded his head and kneeled down next to the telescope, looking into the eyepiece.

"Well Wilf," the Doctor stated, pointing to a cluster of stars. "That is the Andromeda galaxy. I took Donna there once to look through museums, but instead it ended up in a chase throughout the galaxies after a cult. I could tell you a bit about that later. It's a long story." Wilf nodded, looking at the Galaxy so far away. "And that over there is Raxacoricofallapatorius - planet of the Slitheens. Earth had a Slitheen issue a few years ago, but I and a girl named Rose took care of it." Wilf stared in awe, before glancing back at the Doctor with a grin.

"Have you ever been to Mars," He asked. The Doctor scoffed in distaste.

"Mars?!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Rubbish place, home of the ice warriors. If you want to go to a beautiful planet, try Barcelona - absolutely gorgeous, with buildings reaching the skies. I was planning to take Donna there one day, but I don't know when. Ooooh...and North of here in a good billion years or so, New Earth will be found and created - flying cars and everything. I should take you there one day. Just don't go to the hospitals. Crazy cat-nuns work there."

Wilf raised an eyebrow about the last statement, but just shook his head. Glanced back through the telescope, he noticed a meteor fall through the sky. It caught fire, falling and disappearing. Wilf tuned back into the Doctor's rambling. He enjoyed hearing that natural commentary. It showed that the Doctor really was still in there.

Suddenly, there was a loud boom and the house shook with a noisy rumble, knocking everyone to their feet.

* * *

"What was that?" Wilf exclaimed. The rumble ended and the last vase collapsed to the floor. Steadily, the Doctor stood to his feet, shaking his head to clear the stars. Sylvia and Donna had raced down the stairs.

"Is everyone alright," Sylvia shouted. She ran over to her father, helping him to his feet while pushing the broken items away with her foot. "That was a powerful earthquake." Donna nodded her head, wrapping an arm around the Doctor's waist.

"What happened," Donna answered. "We haven't had an earthquake like that in a while." She checked her grandfather and the Doctor for injuries but they seemed to be in the clear. "Are the neighbors alright?" Sylvia stepped over to the open window and glanced out. A few trees had uprooted and neighbors were swarming out of their home, making sure everyone was alright.

"How much was destroyed," Donna asked, worried. She didn't know if everyone was prepared for the sudden quake, but she hoped it wasn't big enough to cause too much damage.

"Everyone seems fine," Sylvia replied. "I don't know." Wilf grabbed the beanie that fell from his head before placing it back on.

"I'm going to check," he stated. "Make sure everyone's alright. They might need help." He quickly left the living room and Sylvia watched as her father made his way over to the neighbors and the sudden hand motions and glancing around, expressing a conversation was taking place.

"Do you think it was an earthquake," Donna whispered to the Doctor, who was standing there with a puzzled look on his face. She could immediately tell that he was slowly entering Doctor mode, thanks to the surprise quake. Her mother overheard the question and scoffed in annoyance.

"Of course it was an earthquake," Sylvia retorted. "What else could it of been?" Donna glared, before turning back to the Doctor, waiting for his answer. Sadly, all the curiosity in his eyes vanished replaced instead with the all to familiar look of sorrow and a bit of paranoia.

"Doctor, what do you think?" she asked again. The Doctor shrugged his shoulders before plopping back onto the couch, his fingers twitching restlessly.

"Don't know," he replied, vaguely. "Could've been an earthquake - could have not."

"Way to be vague, spaceman."

Sylvia glanced around the disarranged living room. Everything had been spilled all over the floor and the pictures hung crooked on the walls. Bending down, Sylvia began picking up the knickknacks and vases that had fallen to the ground and swept up the broken glass with her foot. Staring up at the other occupants in the room, she folded her arms, crossly.

"Well if you're just going to stand there," she began in her nagging tone. They immediately jumped into action, picking up the strewn pillows and straightening the pictures. But the Doctor, as he cleaned, couldn't help but wonder what really happened a few moments ago.

* * *

**Yay, Chapter done! I hope you all enjoyed and are curious about what just occurred. Well, don't worry like all my stories. Everything will be explained fully. Keep reading. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for reviewing. So here's the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy. :) I want to thank thisdayandage for editing my stuff and fixing up the wording of my sentences in some places as well as putting in the needed commas and giving me advice on how to make the chapter better. So thank you. :) On another note, please review!**

Chapter 7

When Donna found the Doctor, he was curled up on a chair. His head rested on the padded arm. A book lay open, in his hand. Lazily, he turned a page. Paper brushed his cheek, causing him to flinch slightly, before gazing back at the foreign words. It was a book Donna had never read before, as it was written in Latin. Her grandfather had gotten it, during one of his travels and brought it back home for everyone to see.

Every so often, the Doctor would glance outside. Suspicion clouded his eyes, as he searched for an unknown assailant, before turning back to his book. Today was not a good day. They had started the morning off with the Doctor screaming bloody murder, waking her and everybody else up. Entering his room, they found him tangled in the bed sheets and shrieking, 'Let me go.' From there on, the slightest movement or flash set him off. She had to constantly remind him he was safe. A few times he asked for the TARDIS, wanting to know if she was safe. He was not happy when Donna was forced to answer vaguely, because her mother was in the room. Throwing a fit, he yelled at her for not answering directly. She had to make sure he didn't hurt himself when he started punching and kicking the walls. After that it was one mood to another. He was either extremely angry and violent, or mournfully sad and paranoid, especially when he freaked out, claiming he heard Dr. Carter's and a few others' voices.

Donna had grown beyond concerned and finally decided she could not handle him anymore. She needed advice and help. She had searched the internet for well known psychiatrists, who dealt with cases like this. She had done her research, making sure each person she found was not a scammer or someone who didn't know what he or she was doing. That was when she found Dr. Roberts, a psychiatrist who helped people who suffered from extremely traumatic situations. She read his file and learned that UNIT sometimes used him as well, since he wasn't the type to ask to many questions about the situation. Yes, he needed to know what happened, but he didn't want all the details unless the patient was willing to give it. Also with the book he had written and the reviews and comments people gave about his way of understanding a trauma victim was very compelling as well. She read a bit on his bio, learning about his home life as well as why he went into this practice. His daughter and wife had apparently been in a car accident and suffered from sever brain trauma and instead of him growing hopeless, he decided to learn all that he could about trauma victims in different situations. He was already a psychiatrist before but this event compelled him to focus on one aspect of the psyche.

Calling him up, she set up an appointment to meet with him. Although having wanted to bring the Doctor along, his recent episodes and fear of the outside made this impossible. Anyway, it was not her intention for the Doctor to be simply fobbed off to this guy. First she wanted to meet the guy, before introducing the Doctor to him at all. Fearing that the Doctor would think she was abandoning him, she needed to prove her commitment to helping him and that she would stick by him. It was just that she could not help him alone. Whether she would even require Roberts help or not, she did not know. Her main goal was to learn about the possible mental disorders the Doctor was suffering from and learn how to help him through it.

Donna tapped the reading Time Lord on the shoulder and he immediately flinched away from her touch, dropping the book altogether. Pressing closer to the chair, his wide brown eyes stared at her with trepidation. Donna sighed. Kneeling down, she picked up the book and placed it back on top of the chair. The Doctor's gaze did not waver, as he watched her every move. When he watched her like that, it made her feel guilty for some unknown reason. It was unnerving.

"What are you reading?" she asked. Slowly, The Doctor loosened up, but his gaze never left hers. He shrugged, picking up the book. "Is it good?"

"I've read it before," he retorted. His tone was always a bit irritable now. Never could he give her a straight answer anymore. Donna was frustrated.

"Well, I'm going out," she stated, changing the topic. The Doctor glanced at her, alarmed.

"I'm not coming with you," he replied. "Besides, you shouldn't go out. It's unsafe. You could get hurt." Donna groaned at the comment. He had an unrealistic belief that the outside world was bad and people were going to hurt him -another mental note to bring up with Dr. Roberts.

"Well, I have to do the shopping," Donna retorted, purposely not bringing up Dr. Roberts. "Or we'll all starve. Do you want me to get you anything?" The Doctor shook his head, turning back to his book and ignoring Donna's presence. Sighing, Donna brushed her red hair back. "Fine, I'm leaving. Behave yourself and don't get in my Mum's way. She's inviting a few friends over this evening and she wants the place to look nice. I'll probably be back by five or so." If the Doctor heard her, he made no reaction of comprehending. Deciding it was best to just ignore the skinny alien grump, Donna turned around and stomped out the door. She then slammed it behind her. Although flinching out of shock, from the sudden loud noise, the Doctor managed to settle back into the chair and continue his reading. Only every so often did, he pause to take a quick glance outside.

* * *

Donna stepped into the large, hospital-like building. The walls were a soft brown and the floors white, speckled with black spots. Wandering over to the desk in the middle, she slung her purse over her shoulder. The receptionist was chatting on the phone, taking quick notes.

"So is the appointment two o'clock then?" the receptionist asked. There was a slight humming noise on the other end and the receptionist nodded her head. "Right then, Mr. Parkson, Dr. Matthews will see you tomorrow." She hung up and glanced over at Donna Noble indifferently. "Name?"

"Donna Noble," Donna replied. "I set up an appointment with Dr. James Roberts." The receptionist spun around in her chair, glancing at the computer. Scrolling down a bit, she hummed softly to herself, before giving Donna a pointed look.

"Ms. Donna Noble, scheduled at 3 o'clock," the receptionist asked. Donna nodded her head, plopping her purse on the desk. "Please have a seat Ms. Noble. I'll alert Dr. Roberts to your arrival."

"Thank you," Donna stated. Moving over to the waiting chairs, she plopped herself next to man with a nervous twitch. The man glanced at her, with twitching eyes, to which Donna smiled kindly. "Hello. I'm Donna," she said. The man jumped back when she held out her hand.

"Germs," he stuttered. "Y-you have germs. They're everywhere." He then proceeded to scrub his hands with a wipe. Donna decided the best thing to do was ignore him. She hoped that the Doctor wouldn't become this paranoid in the future. Better to find him help now, than later.

"Mr. Cedric, Dr. Fedrick is ready to speak with you," the receptionist called. The man, or Mr. Cedric, leapt to his feet and quickly hurried down the corridor, scrubbing rapidly at his hands and counting his steps. Donna watched in curiosity as he touched the handle three times and spun in a half circle, before yanking the door open.

"Poor Mr. Cedric," the receptionist muttered. "He's got obsessive compulsive disorder - extremely paranoid about germs too." Donna nodded her head. She had heard of the disorder and possibly had witnessed it before, but never a case as bad as his.

"Is everyone like this?" Donna asked.

"No, some just come in to talk about the stresses of life," the receptionist responded. "Very few are like Mr. Cedric." Donna nodded her head. The Receptionist picked up the phone and bobbed her head, before hanging up.

"Ms. Noble, Dr. Roberts is ready to see you," the receptionist stated. "His office is second floor, room 301 on the right." Donna said her thanks before heading towards the elevator and climbing inside.

* * *

Now stood in front of a wooden door, she noted the nameplate that said '_Dr. Roberts, psychiatrist_'. Her breath held, Donna quickly knocked three times on the door. A bit of rustling came from inside, as papers were shuffled about.

"Come in," a deep voice stated. Opening the door and entering, Donna saw that the room was painted in warm reds and browns which provided a place of comfort. A desk was situated in the middle, with a large window behind it. A brown chair and a long couch were somewhat in the middle and on the side. Bookshelves, full to the brim, covered the walls and Dr. Roberts' best-selling novel, '_In the Mind of a Trauma Victim' _sat neatly on his desk. Donna let out her breath and stepped further into the room. A dark skinned man, with graying hair sat at the desk.

He smiled kindly, as Donna approached him and she immediately felt welcomed by his smile. He got up and shook her hand.

"Ms. Noble is it?" he checked. She nodded her head.

"Yep, that's me," she replied. "Nice meeting you." Dr. Roberts waved his hand over at the two seats.

"Would you like to sit down and discuss the issue," he asked. His eyes watched her every move, reading her reactions. Even before the conversation had started, he was already getting a clear picture of what kind of person Donna was and assessing the situation.

"Yes, I would," Donna stated. She walked over to the couch that he had directed her to, while he sat in the chair.

"When we talked, you were extremely vague about the reasoning behind your appointment," he said, immediately entering psychiatrist mode. "Would you like to enlighten me on the situation?"

"Well, it's not really me who needs the help, but my friend," Donna replied. Already, she had opted not to talk about the nightmares that plagued her at night or the sudden panic attacks that seemed to happen when she was alone. Those things were of minimal importance, considering what the Doctor was going through.

Dr. Roberts nodded his head, waiting for her to continue with her story. He did not push or ask questions, just waited patiently for her to continue. "And I really just want information on how to help him. I don't want to send him away or anything." Uncomfortably maneuvering in her seat, she plopped her purse onto her lap. "You want me to tell you what happened, don't you?"

"That would be beneficial to my assessment," Dr. Roberts responded. Rubbing at her brow, Donna sighed, nodding.

"He was kidnapped," Donna replied. Immediately, Dr. Roberts sat up straighter and leaned forward. "- And brutally tortured for two and a half months. They experimented on him and did other heinous acts that I can't even begin to explain. When I found him with the rescue team, he was broken. He tried to get back to normal, but I'm afraid he's too far gone." Donna heaved deeply, covering her face with her hands as the weight of the universe rested on her shoulders. "I fear that he has brain damage, or something, because he has no control anymore, over anything."

Dr. Roberts stood up and sat next to Donna, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Please continue Ms. Noble. Maybe tell me a few of the oddities he's expressed, since you've found him." Nodding, Donna told him,

"Well, we've taken him into our home - my Grandfather, my Mum and I. We're all he has now. His family died long ago," Donna stated. She chuckled sadly. "He probably wouldn't want me telling you this." Dr. Roberts shrugged, still watching Donna intently.

"Everything you say will help your friend and will not leave this office," he assured Donna.

"He was also in a war. He doesn't like to talk about it," Donna continued. "And he's witnessed too many things to count. He was broken before, but now I can barely recognize him. Yes, he looks the same, but sometimes I feel like he's not even there anymore. He's isolated himself."

Dr. Roberts nodded his head, before stepping over to his desk and pouring Donna a glass of water. He handed it to her and she nodded her thanks, before taking a gulp. Her hands shook with suppressed anxiety that didn't escape Dr. Roberts' scrutinizing gaze.

"This situation has taken a toll on you, hasn't it?" he asked. Donna glanced over, bobbing her head.

"Yeah," she darkly laughed. "It has. I don't know what to do anymore. Every time I see him, it's like walking on eggshells. I don't know what will trigger him and I fear that the next episode will be worse."

Dr. Roberts waited for her to continue as Donna took another large sip of water and wrung her hands nervously. "He has flashbacks, that makes him either violent or cower in fear. He hasn't hurt one of us yet, but I'm afraid each one will make him worse. He sometimes hallucinates and hears voices and has become extremely irritable, with rapid and unregulated mood swings. He won't eat - unless someone forces him to and he's afraid of showers and the outdoors. He won't wear shoes at all and that stumps me. His captors wouldn't let him wear shoes, but now that he's free, he still won't and I don't know why."

Dr. Roberts nodded his head, "Any other symptoms?"

"The violent tantrums," Donna replied. "And nightmares. He also follows my Mum around as if she's in charge." Dr. Roberts leaned back, listening as Donna finish her assessment. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

Dr. Roberts glanced at Donna, his fingers held in a steeple angle. "From what you've told me about your friend, he seems to be suffering from an extreme case of post-traumatic stress and possibly a low level of schizophrenia. This is common in abuse victims, especially if it happened for long periods of time. And what you have told me of his past, this could be very likely. Other issues could also appear from this traumatic experience, like OCD or survivors guilt. Extreme fears, as you have already mentioned a few and many others. It's good you brought it up with me because I wouldn't want your friend to fall any further."

"What do you think I should do?" Donna asked, desperately. "I'm lost and scared."

"I would suggest hospitalizing him," Dr. Roberts stated. "Having twenty-four hour assistance could be beneficial to his mind. Plus, with therapeutic sessions with other people who were in similar situations may help as well. It's going to be a long process Ms. Noble and most people don't bounce back." Donna shook her head, covering her mouth.

"No, no. I can't. I won't send him away. I can help him. He needs me," Donna replied. Fat tears slid down her cheeks. "He needs me. Is there any other way?" Dr. Roberts sighed, handing her a handkerchief.

"Do you want to keep him with you," Dr. Roberts stated, thoughtfully. Picking up his book, he handed it to her. "I have studied people who have escaped from extremely abusive situations and have written this book on what I found and the different methods I used to connect with them. Read it and see if you can find a way to help. I know whatever you two have been through is unimaginable, but I wish you the best." Donna took his book, flipping through it.

"What if he grows worse?" Donna asked, fear in her tone. The fear was not directed at her friend's violent behavior and her safety, but more at the prospect of what could happen to him.

"Then I have no choice but to section him," Dr. Roberts replied. Donna nodded her head in understanding. She couldn't argue with that. "What is your friend's name?"

"The Doc...John Smith," Donna corrected herself. "His name is John Smith." Dr. Roberts wrote the name down, before asking for a picture. Finding herself with no other choice, but to co-operate, she showed him a picture. Taken of the two of them, three months before the whole Underground event, he had been genuinely smiling, not the ghost of a smile he gives now.

"Any more questions, before you leave?" Dr. Roberts asked. Sadly, he watched the woman fumble about, her hair messy and the obvious stress on her face.

"Yes, yes," she replied. "The shoes - what about the shoes?"

Dr. Roberts leaned back in his chair, thinking about the question. "My best guess is that he believes he doesn't deserve the shoes, that he is less than a person and only a person deserves shoes. My other guess is that he's grown use to not wearing shoes - that it's more comfortable for him. And my last guess is that it's a small form of Stockholm syndrome. If his captors told him he wasn't allowed to wear shoes and he refused to wear them afterwards, then he could possibly have been rewarded for following orders or he could be afraid of punishment for wearing shoes, so he doesn't even though he knows he's safe. Many victims of abuse suffer from this disorder. But then again, I wasn't there, so I don't know. It could be none of these, or a combination of all three, or something entirely different."

Donna nodded her head. She was so tired, tired of this situation, tired of the constant fear and tired of life. But she could not give up. Standing up, she shook Dr. Roberts' hand. After thanking him profusely, she turned around and headed out the door. Her mind was now fumbling over the new knowledge and her hands clutched the book. After leaving the building, she headed towards her car and drove away, to start the weekly shopping.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. Thanks again for the reviews. The next chapter will be about what happened when Donna was gone. I hope you all review. I love reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for the reviews. I really appreciate it. I also want to thank thisdayandage for being an awesome beta-reader and helping me organize my jumbled up thoughts. Well, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy. :)**

Chapter 8

"And Gladys said that Georgie was seen with Bill," Rita, Sylvia's friend, said. "Though Bill is married to Wendy..." Tuning the women's gossip out, the Doctor sat in the corner of the living room. They were not mean or anything, just extremely loud and nosy. As soon as they walked through the door, they were in his face, asking questions about who he was. It was a bit startling and overwhelming at first, but he found his safe corner. There was a loud chorus of squawking from across the room, as Rita told the other four women the ending of her tale. The Doctor rolled his eyes, exasperated. If he had to hear one more story about who cheated on whom, he might throw up.

"Well, there's the reason why Bill and Wendy aren't getting along anymore," Sylvia sniffed and picked up a platter of appetizers. Holding them out to her four friends, she offered, "Nibbles?" There was a chorus of compliant agreements, as the four women picked up plates, filling them up with the little treats.

"Does he want any?" Nella enquired, pointing at the Doctor. All the women turned to face him, having forgotten that he was even in the room. The Doctor didn't mind. He preferred not to be noticed.

Sylvia shrugged her shoulders, pouring tea for all her friends "Probably not", she deemed. "He doesn't like eating much anymore." Nella raised a quizzical brow, before Beatrice asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"Why not?" she asked and took a bite of her snack, chewing politely. Sylvia leaned in, taking a careful glance at the Doctor, before turning back to her friends. The Doctor knew the look of gossip and Sylvia certainly had the spark in her eyes. If she told them, he would not care. It was not as if she even knew the full truth. They had no idea what he had gone through. He was not going to get angry over a bit of trivial gossip. Besides, it was Sylvia. There was only so much he ever expected from the woman. It was obvious by now, that she would rather expose him to her friends. To her, it was more important that she appeared like a saint, than to keep his pain secret and care for him, out of kindness. Lowering his head, he sighed, exhausted. Today had been terrible, it wasn't getting any better and now he was going to have to deal with a bunch of women mollycoddling him.

Sylvia glanced over at the slumped figure of the Doctor. A frown pulled at her lips. She couldn't...she shouldn't tell her friends what happened to him. It would be wrong and would probably hurt the young man even more, from the betrayal alone. Sylvia sighed.

"Sylvia, tell us," Sandra said. Rita, Nella, and Beatrice all nodded their heads in anticipation, occasionally taking glances at the Doctor.

"Why is he here?" Rita asked. "Are you doing charity work?" Nella scoffed in response.

"Sylvia, doing charity work?" she retorted. "That's absurd." Bristling at the remark, Sylvia turned away from Nella.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you now," Sylvia responded with a huff. "Besides it's a family matter and only people in _my _family need to know." Sipping her tea before turning towards the Doctor, she noticed how he leant against the wall. His knees were pulled up to his chest and he stared back at her, in shock. Sylvia shot a wink at him, before turning to her friends. Smiling sweetly, she held out the finger sandwiches. "Want a bite?"

The Doctor could not believe it. He honestly couldn't. Sylvia was well known for her gossiping. He was sure she was going to tell her friends what happened to him. But she hadn't. She had even winked at him! Maybe there was more to Sylvia than what meets the eyes.

Pondering what the wink meant, he couldn't help shake the feeling that she might actually consider him family. Yet, he had only been staying with her, Donna, and Wilf for a little over a week. She could not possibly...the Doctor decided to stop thinking about it. His trust and respect for Sylvia had gone up from this one simple act. Relaxing his head against the wall, he smiled softly to himself.

"Oi, you," a loud shrilly voice exclaimed. "Get over here. I want to talk to you." The Doctor's head snapped over to the five women, one of them, Rita he believed, was gesturing at him. Slowly, he stood to his feet. Cautiously, he made his way over to the woman, whose hair was graying in certain areas. Her brown eyes were sharp and commanding. The Doctor grew nervous approaching her. Hovering nervously next to Sylvia, he looked about, unsure where to sit. The couch sat three of the women and the two chairs sat Rita and Sylvia.

"Sylvia won't tell us why you're here," Rita stated, straight to the point. She leant in a bit, with a smug look on her face. "She wants us to think she's a saint. That's why she's refusing to tell us - makes her look honorable." The Doctor noticed Sylvia's face fall and he couldn't help but compare the similarities between Donna and her Mother. He remembered a similar friend of Donna's, behaving in the exact same way. It had torn her apart.

Icily, the Doctor glared at Rita. Much the same way that he disliked seeing Donna upset, he found he didn't much enjoy watching this woman poke at Sylvia's insecurities.

"Why do you care to know?" he responded. "How would knowing my personal life make your life any more meaningful?" Rita's mouth gaped at the reply and gave a sniff of annoyance.

"We're just curious," Beatrice posed. "You came out of nowhere. Sylvia didn't even say you were here. So, your appearance was quite a surprise." The Doctor placed a comforting hand on Sylvia's shoulder.

"I still think its charity work," Nella said with scoff. "I mean look at him." she waved her hand in the Doctor's direction. "He looks like he's been picked off the streets." Still unable to have a proper wash in the shower, wearing ill-fitting wrinkled clothes and not having even so much as combed his newly cropped hair, his appearance was indeed disheveled. The Doctor squirmed under the obvious put down.

"Actually, he's my daughter's friend," Sylvia replied, glaring. "And he and Donna have been through some rough patches. I would like if you kept any of your cheap shots to yourselves." She grabbed the teapot, signaling the end of discussion, "Tea?"

The Doctor turned from the five women, as they changed the topic. "Well, what do you think about all these earthquakes lately?" Nella exclaimed. "I can't even put things back together in fear that another one will strike!"

"I know," Beatrice agreed. "At least these ones are smaller than that first one a couple days ago."

"Aftershock," Sylvia replied simply, taking a sip of her tea.

Slowly turning towards the stairs, The Doctor began heading to his room, when Sylvia interrupted his movements.

"Doctor, would you mind grabbing the biscuits from the kitchen?" Sylvia asked. Nodding his head, he ducked into the kitchen, where a plate of biscuits sat. Having picked up the plate, he made his way back to Sylvia, but his foot got caught in the rug. He fell heavily to the floor. With a loud bang, the biscuits flew everywhere and the plate shattered into a million pieces. Squawking came from the concerned women in the background. But the powerful and terrifying voice of Major Johnson had taken over his hearing.

"_You clumsy animal!" _He heard the Major shout. "_Look what you did! Did you think I would be satisfied with this effort, you lazy freak?"_ Curled up into a ball, The Doctor clutched at his head and the room spun. Trying to focus, he could see the couch and the five women near it. Some covered their mouths, others asked question, but he was unable to decipher any of the words. All he could hear was the loud roar of reality shifting as, before his eyes, the living room melted into the place he wished never to return.

"_How dare you drop that weapon?" _The Major shouted, as the guards chuckled cruelly from behind. Still curled in his protective ball, he felt the familiar kick to the guts and burn mark of the cattle prod. "_You're not worth any amount of money the Colonel spends on you. And he believes you'll be a great weapon one day." The Major sneered. "You make me sick." The Doctor curled into a tighter ball as another rain of verbal and physical abuse fell on him. He had not meant to drop the knives. He had tripped, which caused him to crash to the floor and lose his grip. "Worthless." The Doctor flinched from that insult. Many in his childhood had called him that and it was a word that caused him internal pain._

"_I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to..." Another kick was driven into his gut and he gasped, coughing up blood._

"_I didn't mean to," the Major mocked. "I am so sick of those words. You'd better shape up fast, Subject 13, because my patience is wearing thin. Next time, I'm sending you to Carter. He can make use of you for the last time."_

_The Doctor gulped, his eyes hardened and his fists tightened. Why did he care what this man said? He was so much more than Johnson could ever dream of being and yet, he was cowering like a...a victim - someone who could be pushed around. Well, he was not going to let this abuse hurt him. He was strong. He knew he was strong. He had proven it at the academy, when the bullies would pick on him and the teachers mocked his differences. The words had struck close to home, but so did many other things. He was not a coward._

"_I deserve an apology for your failure," the Major commented with a sneer. The Doctor glanced up, fire in his eyes. Standing to his feet, he challenged the Major._

"_No," he replied, causing the Major to glare at him with shock._

"_What," the Major asked, surprised. The Doctor just crossed his arms, setting his jaw, his muscles tensing._

"_I am not going to apologize," he replied, evenly. "What I did was an accident and I don't deserve to __be punished. You are nothing but a coward, like the rest of this organization and I'm not going to allow you to push me around anymore." The Major stepped closer, pressing his nose against the Doctor. His size made the Doctor look scrawny._

"_Subject 13's gaining courage," the Major mocked. The Doctor glared, a smirk playing on his lips._

"_I've always had it. What do you have?" the Doctor shot. The Major sneered, slamming the cattle prod into his guts. With a grunt, the Doctor was again clutching his stomach, but refused to fall over._

"_Speak to me with respect," the Major hissed. His eyes hardened with hatred as his nails dug into the Doctor's shoulder._

_Looking up, The Doctor replied, "Not until you earned it." Furious, the Major threw him to the ground and pulled out a set of sharp handcuffs. The metal glinted, as he snapped them onto the Doctor's wrists and tightened them, so they inflicted bruises. Through gritted teeth, the Doctor gave a grunt of discomfort, but refused to cry out, as his wrists bled. Bringing a solid boot down, the Major crushed the hands of the Doctor, who screwed his eyes shut, against the agony. Pressure increasing, the Doctor hissed, between his teeth._

"_This is for disrespecting your superiors," the Major scolded, "And dropping your designated weapon. I do not allow failure and disrespect in this room." In a swift motion, he slammed the Doctor against the floor. After roughly latching his cuffs to the hook in the ground, the Major climbed to his feet. Leaving the Doctor to lay flat on his stomach, on the hard, cold ground, the Major asserted,_

"_You will stay there chained to the ground for four days. No food, water, or bathroom trips. The guards can do whatever they please with you, as long as you're not permanently damaged. It seems you're still valuable enough to keep alive. Be happy for that."_

_Gazing up at the Major, the Doctor gave a pained grin and retorted, "Thought so." The sneering Major chose to reciprocate this remark by swinging his boot towards the Doctor's side. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut._

"_Doctor," the Major said in a slightly feminine voice. "Sweetheart, you're in a flashback. None of what you're seeing is real. Please come back to us, darling." The Doctor's eyes snapped open and he glanced around the Underground training room. Everything had frozen and the Major was in mid-kick._

"_I'm having a flashback," the Doctor muttered. His head turned to the side, glancing at everyone else, who had frozen. He looked back at the Major, his mouth moving._

"_Doctor," the Major said again, but his voice was morphing to a female's. "Please come back to us." The Doctor shuddered and closed his eyes, readying himself._

He opened them, his throat was raw from screaming and he could still hear a shrieking in the room. That was when he realized, he was the one screaming. His eyes darted about the room, taking in the details of the Noble's living room. Soft strong arms were wrapped around him and his head rested on someone's chest. With a glance up, he noticed it was Sylvia who held him close, while her friends flipped out. Still screaming, he felt his muscles spasm. His eyes landed on the Major, standing behind the couch, with several guards behind him. In hope of escaping the iron grips of Sylvia Noble, he squirmed.

"Oh my God," Nella shrieked. "He just fell over and started to spasm."

"What was that?" Beatrice asked, alarmed. "Is he mental or something?"

"Sylvia, did you allow one of those loony's to live with you," Rita exclaimed. "Because I'm not visiting again, if he's here." Rita sneered in distaste, as the Doctor still squirmed in Sylvia's arms, trying to escape the invisible evils that clawed at his mind. Pushing Sylvia well enough away, he slammed hard, against the wall. Still hearing the voices of the Major and some of the Guards, he watched as they slowly approached him. Each held their own torture device. Pain throbbed in his gut, from where they had kicked him and he clutched his stomach, trying in desperation, to avoid the people grabbing at him.

"Is he alright?" Sandra asked, as they watched the Doctor kick out and plead for mercy.

"Of course he's not alright," Sylvia snapped. Slowly, she moved in closer to the Doctor. "Doctor, Doctor sweetheart, it's me."

"S-Sylvia," the Doctor stuttered, wide-eyed. "They're b-behind you...They're g-going to hurt you. S-Sylvia r-run!" Sylvia reached a hand out towards the Doctor, who simply jerked away. Frowning, Sylvia looked around behind her.

"Doctor, there's no one there," she responded.

"Yes, he's there," the Doctor said, trepidation lacing his voice. "He wants to hurt me. The Major's angry at me, for talking back."

Wilf ran down the stairs, just as the front door opened with a bang and Donna came in. Hearing the fearful shrieks, she had come running, dropping the groceries. She almost ran into Wilf, who had quickly side-stepped his sprinting granddaughter.

"What happened?" She asked, urgently, making her way around the four women, towards her Mother and the Doctor.

"He's having a flashback," Sylvia responded, "Or a hallucination. He believes the people who kidnapped him are in the room." Donna fell to her knees and held the Doctor's arms gently.

"Doctor, it's ok," she whispered. "Shhh...Come on sweetheart. No one's here." She heard Rita and a few of the others protest loudly, as Wilf ushered them out of the house. They were not pleased about their party being cut short.

"D-Donna," he whispered, tears streaking his cheeks. "W-why do I see them?" Fear shook his voice and his arms wrapped around his legs, as he continued to rock back and forth. "Why?" Having allowed Donna to help him to his feet, the Doctor leant his head on her shoulder. She had wrapped her arm around his skinny waist and was slowly maneuvering him towards the stairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" she said. "Then you can sleep in my room tonight, alright?" The Doctor nodded his head and Wilf followed them up the stairs, with Sylvia trailing behind. The living room was a complete mess, but they could easily clean it up tomorrow.

"Donna?" Sylvia asked. When Donna glanced down the stairs, her Mum couldn't help but notice the weariness in her daughter's eyes. Quietly, The Doctor continued to sob into her shirt, his fingers entwined in her blouse.

"I'll tell you later," Donna replied. Nodding her head, Sylvia turned and took in the mess. "Gramps, can you help me get him ready for bed?"

"Of course," Wilf responded. Getting to the top of the stairs, he took the distressed Doctor from his granddaughter and helped him to the bathroom. "Come on son, let's get you cleaned up." With a slump to her walk, Donna followed. Over the rail, she saw her mother picking up the discarded grocery bag and slowly tiding the room up.

It was as Donna was making her slow walk to the bathroom that the house began to shake. Losing her balance, she fell to the floor. A startled cry resonated out, from the Doctor, followed by the soft shushing sounds of Wilf, trying to calm him down. The house ceased it's shaking. This was the fifth earthquake in the past couple of days. Though none were as strong as the first one, they still left some minor damage. Mainly it was just ornaments being knocked to the floor. Donna climbed to her feet and dusted herself off.

"Are you alright Mum?" she shouted. She waited for her mother's voice until a soft 'yeah' was thrown back. Donna nodded her head, satisfied, before slowly heading towards the bathroom. As she entered, she found the Doctor clutching her grandfather and sobbing with Wilf still softly shushing him.

"The earthquake scared him," he replied, simply. Nodding her understanding, Donna took up a cloth and began to wet it down.

"It's m-more than just an earthquake," the Doctor responded and turned his gaze towards Donna. "It has to be." Donna and Wilf shared a glance, both dreading the comment the Doctor had just made.

* * *

**Thank you for your reviews. I really appreciate them. Please keep reviewing. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi! :) I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. They are very encouraging. :) I want to thank thisdayandage for beta-reading my story. It has been extremely helpful. Well, here's the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy. :)**

Chapter 9

Wilf sat upon the Doctor's bed as the Doctor lay curled up, under the sheets. He placed a protective hand on the Doctor's shoulder, while the alien restlessly slept. Wilf had heard the shrieks of terror when he was upstairs, reading a book and relaxing. He didn't like going downstairs when Sylvia's 'friends' were around. They tended to enjoy mocking and gossiping about people that they considered their friends, or less than them. He knew Sylvia only joined in, because she did not want to be left out, like an outcast. It had been her insecurity since she was a little girl and sadly, Donna inherited it as well.

He was happy when Donna found the Doctor again. It had provided her with an outlet from her dreary and ignorant life. In his heart, he knew Donna was meant for so much more than what her friends had provided her. Like her mother, her friends were not the best influence, but he knew Donna now had a means of escape from that influence, unlike her mother.

Restlessly, the Doctor jerked under the sheets and moaned softly, while Wilf quietly hushed him back to sleep. Wilf sighed, knowing full well what the Doctor went through. Donna had told him everything the first night they were here. She came into his room, falling into his arms, sobbing. Just like the Doctor, she too was suffering from pain and torment. The difference being that right now, she was able to hide it better. Donna always had been brave and her worry of letting the Doctor see her sad drove her to wear a mask of coping. But Wilf saw through that mask and he was pretty sure the Doctor noticed too. Helping her was just not an option for the Doctor right now though, with his mind in such a state.

Wilf sighed. All these broken people in the universe and now his granddaughter had become one of them. In the year and a half she traveled with the Doctor, she had witnessed too much. Yet, Wilf knew she would never take any of it back. These travels had changed her for the better. It did not take a genius to notice this.

Quietly, he sat in the dark, as the Doctor softly breathed beside him. The door cracked open just a bit, allowing the light in the hallway to brighten the room slightly. Wilf heard the quiet whispers of Donna and Sylvia, as they discussed what Dr. Roberts said and how they should go about the issue. He felt the bed creak a bit, as the Doctor tossed and turned in his sleep.

Wilf watched, protecting him from the monsters and evils that plagued his mind. He knew the Time Lord could not fight them off alone. He needed his friends and family to do so and Wilf would happily volunteer to get this wonderful, unique man back on his feet. So, Wilf sat, guarding him, until Donna came back and took over. He would not allow those men to ever take him again, or anyone else out there, who wished harm on the sleeping alien, for that matter.

Lovingly, Wilf gazed at the Doctor. If the Doctor was his son he would be so proud of him. Sometimes, he viewed the alien as the son he never had and he wanted the Doctor to know that he was always welcomed in his home. The Doctor would always have a place in his old heart, specifically for him. Just like Donna and Sylvia had their own little corner.

The whispering outside grew a little hushed. Ears perking, Wilf tried to listen into it, but decided the only way he could hear what they were saying was to leave the Doctor's side, which he really did not want to do at the moment. Deciding instead, that a bit of shut eye would do him some good until Donna came in, he leant back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

* * *

"So, are you thinking of sending him to this Dr. Roberts guy?" Sylvia questioned. Arms crossed. Having found the book in the grocery bag about trauma victims, she had flipped through it, before Donna appeared. Donna shrugged her shoulders, wearily rubbing her eyes.

"I don't know," she responded with a sigh. "I just don't know. He seemed like a nice guy, but I want to dig into his background a bit deeper."

"He's a psychiatrist," Sylvia stated matter-of-factly. Donna shot her mum a glare before huffing.

"I know that," she snapped, shortly. Unable to even get a good night sleep anymore, she was exhausted, tired of life and the situation. "But I don't want to ship him off to some guy I barely know. And how can this guy possibly help him? He wasn't even there."

Sylvia cocked her head to the side as she contemplated the response. The situation was sticky. She wanted to help the Doctor as best as she could, but he was suffering from a disorder that she had no knowledge on. Her only motive revolved around getting the Doctor professional help, but her daughter seemed slightly resistant to the idea, even though she went and talked to a psychiatrist today.

"The Doctor's different," Donna said more to herself then to Sylvia. "His mind could work differently, compared to other people. Dr. Roberts wouldn't have any clue how to help him."

Sylvia decided not to question that comment, instead letting it sit in the air, forgotten. "Have you tried contacting people, who have spoken to Roberts?" Donna shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head.

"No, but I know a specific group that uses him. He hasn't been badly talked about yet."

"Plus he has experience, considering what happened to his wife and daughter," Sylvia inquired. Donna gave her a quizzical look and Sylvia scoffed. "I read his biography in the back."

"I know," Donna replied. "But I just don't trust anyone at the moment and neither does the Doctor. He only trusts me - and that's only a sort of." Donna drummed her fingers on the rail, as she glanced down at the first floor. "I just don't want to see him hurt."

Sylvia wrapped a comforting arm over her daughter's shoulders. "I know love, but we need to think about what's best for him. He might hate us at first, but in the end he'll be thankful." Donna chuckled sadly and looked to her mother, with watery eyes.

"I know," she replied. "I think I'll just visit Roberts a few more times though, before I set up an appointment for the Doctor." Donna knew her Mum was right, but her Mum also assumed the Doctor was human. Oblivious from the fact that he was an alien, Sylvia was only thinking in a way to help a human man, not a Time Lord. But Donna, like her Mum had no clue what to do and could only rely on what humans said. Now that the Doctor's race was gone, there was no way to ask another Time Lord on the situation. So, Donna was in a messy situation that could go terribly wrong, in either direction. If she never found help, he could sink deeper into the darkness and fears he held. While on the other hand, sending him to Dr. Roberts could do the same. She also didn't know what Roberts' behavior was like, towards aliens. Yes, not many knew about extra-terrestrials in 2009, but if he ever found out, would he treat the Doctor with fear and prejudice, or would he be accepting and look at the Doctor as a broken man, seeking help? But then again, he did provide psychiatric help to UNIT. Maybe he knew aliens existed, but never mentioned it. Donna held her head in her hands, while her Mum placed a comforting hand on her back. Donna's head shot up, a metaphorical light bulb flashing over her head. Spinning around to faced her Mother, she knew exactly who she should contact; a certain doctor, who traveled through time and space, not too long before her.

"Mum!" Donna exclaimed. "I have an idea!" Sylvia crossed her arms, waiting for Donna to continue. "I'll contact Martha." Martha had traveled through time and space with the Doctor before Donna. Now she was a successful doctor, working for UNIT. Although having studied human medicine, she might know a bit about a Time Lord's biology, if she had been ambitious enough to learn about it. She could have studied the Doctor's...or Gallifreyan psychology as well. "She's my best hope in helping him. Plus she works for UNIT, so she might know a bit about Roberts."

Sylvia's brow shot up in puzzlement. She had never heard of this Martha person before. "Donna, who's Martha?" Donna's head jerked around to face her Mum, with eyes that held a hopeful glint.

"She's a friend of the Doctor's," Donna responded. "And she's a doctor as well. She traveled with him, before me."

Sylvia rolled her eyes and scoffed at the response. "Does he ever travel with men?!" she exclaimed. "It's one woman after another with him, isn't it!?" Hand sliding along the rail, Donna placed her foot on the first step. Donna did not answer her Mum's remark. Her thoughts were surrounded by the possibilities of Martha knowing what to do. Hopeful glee consumed her.

Donna made her way downstairs with her mother following her. "I'll call her right now," Donna announced. Reaching for the home phone, she was stopped by Sylvia, who grabbed her hand. Donna scowled at her Mum. Frustrated that her Mother was stopping her from making progress, she yanked her arm out of her Mother's grip.

"What?!" Donna barked, placing her hands on her hip. Her Mother softly frowned, lips puckering, as she matched her daughter's stare.

"You can't call Martha right now," Sylvia reasoned, voice pitch hitting an octave higher out of annoyance towards her daughter's reaction. "It's late at night and you'll probably be waking the poor girl up."

"She's a doctor," Donna replied, exasperated. "She probably stays up late doing doctory things." Sylvia shot her daughter a look, but it was not one of malice and annoyance. It was more out of concern. Donna normally was not this unreasonable and it just proved how much stress her daughter was under.

"Doesn't matter," Sylvia retorted, not unkindly. "If that is so, she might be working. Get some sleep Donna and call her in the morning. You'll be able to form a coherent sentence then." Donna let out a displeased sigh of defeat, knowing full well her mother was correct with her assessment. Donna pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded sluggishly.

"Fine," she relented. "Fine, you're right. I need sleep and it's not right to call Martha at this ghastly hour. I'll talk to her in the morning."

Sylvia led the tired woman back up the stairs and into the bathroom, then handed her daughter a nightgown, before exiting the bathroom. Leaning against the door, Sylvia listened to the water run, as Donna got ready for bed. Then she heard the gentle creaks in her bedroom, where the Doctor slept at the moment. The day had worn her down, with flashbacks and hallucinations from the Doctor and unrelenting interrogation from her friends. Ready to go to bed, she hoped to wake up with a fresh start.

However, she knew full well that this wish was impossible, due to the Doctor's unpredictable manner. She listened to the water shut-off, the creaks of the floor and the soft click of the knob as Donna exited the bathroom, freshly cleaned. Now if only Sylvia could get the Doctor in the shower, then he wouldn't look as pulled off the streets. He needed a cleaning, but his fear of water kept him from performing the necessary hygienic routine. Maybe she could encourage it later, or suggest a bath instead.

"Done?" Sylvia asked. Donna nodded her head, allowing her Mother to gently lead her into her room. She spotted her grandfather snoozing at the end of the bed, while the Doctor was curled up in a fetal position on one side. A teddy bear was clutched in his hands, that her gramps must have handed him. The other side of the bed was neat and waiting for an occupant to oblige to its comforting offer. She lay down, as her Mother roused her grandfather awake.

With a soft snort, his eyes popped open, and he rolled out of bed, cracking his back. He gave Donna a warm smile, wishing her good night before patting the Doctor on the head. The Doctor responded by sniffling and rolling closer to Donna. She watched as her Mother and Grandfather exited the room, making their way to their own beds.

Donna slowly drifted to sleep, thanks to the darkness and quiet of the room.

* * *

The next morning, across town, Ralph Horseman yawned. He scratched his chin and followed with a quick stretch of his limbs. His wife and son were peacefully asleep in the house, when he made his way out onto the porch. Stepping down the steps, he took a long sniff of the fresh, morning air. Thoughts of coffee crossed his mind, as his foot slowly made his way towards the well-trimmed grass of his front yard. His slightly bulging belly jiggled and he let out another loud, wakeful yawn, before his foot made contact with the grass.

Eyes widened, he shrieked. The normally soft grass had punctured his foot, exiting through to the other side. The grass was like thousands of knives and Ralph fell over from the pain. His mustache wiggled, as his lips contorted into a painful howl. His loud, pained screech echoed through the tiny neighborhood, as the grass went through him. Ralph's blue eyes glazed over, dead. Blood formed around his body, from the puncture wounds. Growing thinner and thinner, his body was decaying. Any leftover blood soaked into the grass. All the life essence inside of Ralph Horseman disappeared. His death was to be labeled as being from unknown causes. The only sounds that could be heard were his wife's shrieks and pleas for help, followed by the shouts of murder.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. The next chapter will have Martha coming in on the scene. :) Please review. I love reviews!:)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for all the reviews. I really appreciate them. I also want to thank thisdayandage for doing a wonderful job of proof-reading my chapter. It's been really helpful. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy. Please review! I love reviews. :)**

Chapter 10

The truck lurched to a stop in front of the small neighborhood house. A young, professional looking woman, dressed in black bounced out. Her black hair was pulled into a bun and her dark brown eyes took in the house that was affected by the mysterious phenomenon. Some claimed murder, but the young woman knew from her travels that murder was far from the answer. It was a mysterious anomaly and she was going to get to the bottom of it. She marched over to the house with the white picket fence. The house was marked off by yellow caution tape. Soldiers wearing red berets guarded the front yard, where a UNIT forensic team surrounded the body of Ralph Horseman. The woman marched over to the entrance and a soldier saluted her, respectfully.

"Dr. Jones," he greeted with a nod. Dr. Jones smiled politely, but her features remained hardened and professionalism. She ducked under the caution tape. Her dark eyes darted around, absorbing the scene. Bystanders stood along the tape, watching the event taking place. Nervous whispers and shocked cries came from the growing crowd. Dr. Jones could hear the soft cries of the wife, who lost her husband near the porch. Turning her head to the cries, Dr. Jones spotted the wife and son clutching each other as they watched.

Sighing, Dr. Jones snapped on plastic gloves and made her way over to Ralph Horseman's body. This was the part of her job she hated. Seeing families torn apart from tragic events. She strode onto the grass, squatting down next to the body. Her eyes roamed the shriveled up form of Ralph.

"God, It looks like he died years ago," one of the men from the forensic team exclaimed. Dr. Jones nodded her head in agreement. Her lips pursed as she contemplated the likely cause of death. She knew it wasn't a simple murder. A year or so of traveling through time and space had extended her knowledge outside of the box of normalcy. She could confirm Ralph Horseman's death was not under normal 'human' circumstances. The miniature puncture wounds that covered his decaying body were evident enough. "What do you think Martha?" another forensic officer, Harry, asked. Dr. Martha Jones glanced over at the two men. They both squatted on either side of her, with similar quizzical expressions on their faces.

"Well it wasn't a 'human' who killed him that's for sure," she responded. Placing a gloved hand on Ralph's body, she traced the puncture wounds with her fingers, searching for any clues that could lead to his mysterious and painful death. That was when she spotted a tiny dark green fuzzy patch, like foliage, behind his ear.

"Harry, what's that?" she asked. Harry bent down closer, observing the green patch, before shrugging his shoulders.

"No idea," he replied. "We'll take a sample and bring it back to the labs." He scraped a bit of the green skin off. Placing it in a baggy, he handed it towards one of the soldiers to place in the truck. Martha stood up, wiping the grass off her pants. She briefly examined the body once more, before making her way up the steps towards the family. Her mind pondered the strange discoveries she found on the body. The puncture wounds were needle thin, yet sharp enough to kill. But how could it drain the man's life essence? Martha couldn't help but wonder if the man's death could be linked to the earthquakes. After traveling with the Doctor for so long, she could safely assume that most strange phenomenons that occurred close to each other were linked.

Besides, Ralph Horseman was not the first recent death that happened under mysterious causes. A young woman was found strangled to death by vines, not too far from here. Her features were considerably similar to Ralph's. Not only that, but her death had followed an earthquake as well. Martha wished she knew what was going on. Most of UNIT was stuck and she was considering calling in the Doctor for assistance.

"Mrs. Horseman," she greeted, kindly and sympathetically. "I'm Dr. Martha Jones. I'll be working your husband's case."

The middle aged brunette, turned to face Martha, tears streaming down her face. Her son clutched her midsection, wet cheeks burrowing into his mother's chest. Mrs. Horseman covered her mouth, sniffling.

"He didn't have any enemies," she exclaimed, through stuttering breaths. "My husband was a good man. Everybody loved Ralph. W-who would hurt him?"

Martha placed a consoling hand on the mournful woman's shoulder. She couldn't even imagine losing someone like this. "Mrs. Horseman," Martha answered. "I don't believe your husband was murdered in the fashion you believe."

"But didn't you see those stab marks?" Mrs. Horseman inquired. Her son glanced up with wet blue eyes. "Whoever killed him must have stabbed him to death."

"It would have been a quick attack then," Martha mumbled, doubtfully. "Mrs. Horseman, what was the time period between when your husband got out of bed and his death?"

Mrs. Horseman gazed into the distance, recalling the information from earlier. Her son watched Martha, with curiosity.

"He got out of bed and headed outside right away," she remembered. "- Mumbling about coffee. I heard the front door slam shut and a loud yawn from outdoors." Her finger tangled nervously in her brown hair. "I fell back into a light slumber. A few minutes must of passed when I h-heard him s-scream." Tears dripped down her face, landing in her son's mass of curls. Martha kept her straight-faced, professional visage. If she broke then she could not reassure Mrs. Horseman, or her son, that she could find out what truly happened. "I-I immediately ran outside...and...and..." Pulling her son closer, she began to choke on her own sobs. "He was s-shriveled up and bleeding."

A few seconds - that's all it took for Ralph Horseman to die under. Martha had no clue how to proceed with this investigation. There was no significant assailant that could have performed this heinous crime. No alien, she could think of or other phenomenon that made sense. She had looked over the last victim's body and like Ralph, came to no conclusions. Martha was not about to give up though.

"Mrs. Horseman," Martha stated, solemnly. "I promise you, I'll get to the bottom of this. I don't believe anyone was purposely trying to kill your husband though."

Mrs. Horseman glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"I believe your husband was in the wrong place at the wrong time," she responded.

"Like an accident assassination attempt meant for someone else," the son inquired, peeking from underneath his mother's arms.

"He watches a lot of spy movies," Mrs. Horseman confirmed. Martha smiled kindly.

"No, like something unexplainable happened here today," Martha replied. "I am working a similar case to your husband's death. Not too far from here, a woman was found dead under the same circumstances of your husband. But instead of puncture wounds... "Martha broke off, glancing worriedly at the young boy next to his mother. Mrs. Horseman immediately noticed Martha's concern and gently pushed her son towards the door.

"How about you go pack some toys for the trip Peter," Mrs. Horseman encouraged. "That way you won't be bored at Grandma's." Peter nodded his head, slowly turning towards the house. His mother ruffled his hair lovingly. He left, the two women to converse, in silence.

"Peter and I are going to live with my mother for a while," She confirmed with a shiver. "I can't bare the thought of sleeping here tonight, or ever again. Ralph bought this house for the two of us. We had plans of growing o-old together."

"I am sorry for your loss," Martha responded. There was not much she could say on the matter. From her experience, she had found that most people did not like to be pitied. Mrs. Horseman sniffed, blowing her nose in the handkerchief, which she pulled out of her coat pocket.

"What did you want to tell me about the young woman?" she asked.

"Right," Martha said, getting back on topic. "She did not have puncture wounds like your husband. Instead she was found strangled in the vines. This was the day after the first earthquake hit."

"Did she appear decayed?" Mrs. Horseman inquired. Martha nodded her head.

"Just like your husband," she confirmed.

"What's killing them," Mrs. Horseman questioned. Her green orbs drifted as she remembered the life-changing morning.

"That's what I intend to find out," Martha promised. Martha shook the widow's hand, before turning towards the steps. "Take care of yourself and your son. I wish you luck." Mrs. Horseman bobbed her head, blowing her nose once more.

"I will," she replied. "Thank you."

Martha marched down the little path. UNIT had already packed up Ralph Horseman's body. Now they were herding the bystanders away, so they could pull out of the driveway. Martha was about to climb into the front seat, when her mobile went off. Retrieving her phone, she clicked it on.

"Hello? Dr. Martha Jones speaking," she formally introduced.

"_Martha," _a familiar voice on the other end answered. "_This is Donna Noble. We met during ATMOS." _Martha's eyes widened in recognition and a large grin spread across her face.

"Donna," She exclaimed. "Yeah, I remember. How's the Doctor doing?" She had met Donna Noble during the Sontaran attack. Immediately, she had taken a liking to the feisty ginger, for she had shown a quick wit and compassionate demeanor from the moment they met. Donna had also proven to be an excellent friend to the Doctor and Martha no longer had to worry about the mad alien being alone. She was glad she had left. It had been time to go and her family needed her more than ever, after the year that never was. She had even been engaged to Tom, but sadly that had not worked out. Their personalities were too different and tended to clash. She needed someone who would understand her, someone who had similar experiences to herself. Happy to wait for that person, she didn't need a relationship right now.

Silence was on the other end of the phone. Donna still had not replied and Martha grew worried. It was unusual for Donna to keep her mouth shut for long periods of time. If she had something to say, she normally spat it out right away. "Donna, is everything alright?" Martha asked, concerned, but was met with silence and a heavy sigh.

"_Yeah, yeah, everything's alright," _Donna replied, before suddenly changing the subject. "_How are you and Tom doing?" _Martha pursed her lips. Donna was nervous about something. She just knew it. That had to be why her answers were so delayed.

"We broke up," Martha answered. "We just didn't work well together - too different."

"_I'm sorry,"_ Donna responded, solemnly. "_It seems everyone's having a crap life, as of lately."_ Martha's eyebrow quirked. What had happened? Her face hardening into determination, she prepared to pry the information out of Donna's lips. "Donna, what happened?" There was another tiring and desperate sigh on the other end, making Martha feel desperate for answers. Something happened to the Doctor. A bad feeling had been resting in her guts, since even a week before the first earthquake. Up until now though, she had not been able to pinpoint it. "Where's the Doctor?" Hearing a single sob on the other end, her heart dropped. Her worries seemed confirmed. "I-Is h-he dead?" She needed answers and Donna seemed to be withholding the information. A life without the Doctor was just unimaginable. He was her friend and the thought of him dead killed her inside.

"_No. He's with me,"_ Donna reassured. A heave of relief passed Martha's lips and she leaned heavily against the UNIT truck, she was about to enter. A few UNIT soldiers stood around, waiting for Martha to finish her phone call. Wanting privacy, she waved them away, but ended up sauntering away from the truck.

"What's wrong then?" she pried. "He's not hurt is he?" She was met with more silence on the other end, confirming her inquiry. Her mouth cracked open slightly, as her brown orbs widened in shock. "Oh, God, how badly is he injured? Are any bones broken? Is he having difficulty breathing? Do you need me to come over right away?" She immediately marched down the street, heading towards where she believed Donna's house was. "Donna, I need your address. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"_Martha, nothing is physically broken at the moment," _Donna assured halfheartedly, knowing full well her reassurance was far from the truth. Martha paused, waiting for the conclusion that was about to come. "_But his mind is broken."_

"What do you mean Donna?" Martha prodded. The more fearful she became, the more anxious her voice sounded.

"He's been having flashbacks," Donna confirmed. "- And seeing things that are not really there. I need your help, because I don't know how to help him. I thought, maybe since you traveled with him...you would have read about Time Lord physiology and even maybe a bit of psychology."

"Donna, I'm a medical doctor," Martha replied. "I don't know much about the psyche..."

"_I know that,"_ Donna exclaimed, frustrated. "_But you're the only one I thought of, since you traveled with him and everything. I tried talking to a psychiatrist, but I didn't trust his judgment since he's human and the Doctor's a Time Lord and everything. So, I thought you would be the best option."_

"Are you going to get a psychiatrist?" Martha asked. Donna answered with an 'I don't know' and Martha bit her lip.

"I'll help," she agreed. "He's my friend and I want to see him get better. When do you want me to stop by?"

"_Anytime is fine,"_ Donna replied. "_He's not having a good day today. I just want to let you know ahead __of time."_

Receiving Donna's address, she opted to head there now. The case could be dealt with later. Her friend needed help and she was not about to leave him hanging. Perhaps she would be able to ask the TARDIS about Time Lord psychology. Already, she was well enough versed in the biology of Gallifreyans. Most of her free time on the TARDIS, was spent reading about it. If the Doctor was ever severely injured, she wanted to be prepared, not wanting to risk making his injuries worse. When she arrived, she might even consider letting Donna know about the UNIT psychiatric hospital, if the Doctor was too hard to handle. Not that she would ever want to place him in there. It was just a safety measure to bring into context. Overall, she hoped they never had to send him there.

"Donna, I'm coming right now," Martha stated. "But I want to know what happened to him when I arrive. I want to be able to help him to the best of my abilities."

With a relieved thank you, Donna hung up. Martha pocketed her phone, before waving the UNIT trucks away. She would take a taxi. There was no point in taking the risk of triggering any of the Doctor's fear, considering she didn't know the situation well enough. Clutching her head, Martha waved a taxi over. Climbing in, she gave the address to the driver. Already, she felt a stress induced headache approach, as the taxi lurched into movement. The earthquakes, the deaths, and now the Doctor's sudden change in demeanor had taken its toll on the young doctor. She hoped she could provide the help Donna desperately needed.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter will have Martha's meeting with the Doctor, so I hope you keep reading. Please review! I love reviews. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello! :) Thank you for the wonderful reviews. I also want to thank thisdayandage for all the help she is providing me and the pointers she is giving. It is truly helpful to my developing writing skills. Thank you. :) Well, here's the next chapter! :) Hope you enjoy. Keep letting me know what you think and I will try to reply back if you have any questions, unless you're anonymous then I can't really reply. I won't give spoilers though. :) **

Chapter 11

Slouched against the wall of his room, the Doctor's face was buried into his knees. Thoughts and old, painful memories bombarded his already weak psyche. Why? Why did he have to suffer? What made the universe decide to pick on him? He was alone. Losing his whole family and planet was devastating enough and even before that he suffered. His best friend went mad. The other Time Lords treated him like an outcast, casting him away like a disease - something that could not be fixed. Whenever he returned, they found a reason to lock him away. Turning to time travel had allowed him to escape, to run away from the depressing life he lived. The only people, from his planet, who supported him was his long-deceased wife and children. But even as his children grew older, they noticed the oddities of their father and estranged themselves from him. In retrospect, he never really had a family, who unconditionally loved him, no matter what happened. As he thought about it, if Gallifrey was still around when the Underground kidnapped him, would they really welcome him back with open arms? Or would he be given the cold shoulder, forced to find comfort elsewhere?

He knew that his house, Lungburrow, would never welcome him back. Saying that they disliked him would be an understatement. Basically, they viewed him as a mistake, a blooper on Gallifrey. He was tormented by the housekeeper, Satthaltrope, a large Gallifreyan woman with cold black eyes and a wisp of blond curls that sat neatly on top her head. She had her eyes on his cousin, Glospin, who hated him. He was manipulative and sinisterly evil, but that's why Satthaltrope favored him over all the others. He showed no mercy. Later, they had illegally created Owis to replace him, hoping that he would disappear. That had hurt. It was like two sharp daggers were plunged simultaneously into his already broken hearts.

No wonder he was such a broken mess. So afraid to make commitments, or accept that people actually loved and cared about him. All the hurt and rejection had built up, to create the broken man he was today. He hid under a carefully designed facade, hoping that no one could see him for what he truly was, a worthless outcast. Gallivanting around the universe, he would flash smiles and act the part of a bigger than life hero. When the Time War came along, it had shattered his fragile psyche even more. Flashbacks and memories from the war still held their suffering grip on him. The humid air of the swampy wilderness he trudged through with his troops, shooting at anything that was a possible enemy, or supporting the designs of massively destructive time weapons.

The Daleks, the year that never was, fighting the terrible monsters from children's nightmares, and so much more had caused devastation upon everything that made him who he was. It had been escalating and now it was bubbling over the sides like an erupting volcano. Fury, sadness and loneliness plagued him and there was nothing he could do about it. It was his own personal baggage that he could never let go.

Everything was his fault, everything. His people were right. He was a worthless nothing that could never amount to anything. The Underground had proved that. They had shown him the truth in a painfully harsh and devastating way. But it was a truth that he had known for a long time. Up until now, he just refused to fully accept it.

He could never tell Donna about this. Spill the beans and let her in on his darkest secrets. It was enough to drive anyone to pity. He did not want to be pitied. He could not be seen as weak. The Weak are stepped upon like ants that cannot escape the harsh crunches of boots. Silently, he accepted his fate to the universe. It was the universe's way of punishing him for his stupidities. He was broken, a damaged part to the universal machine. That strange piece that never seemed to quite fit, the discarded part that always came back, that was him.

His throat clogged up, with centuries of suppressed emotions that decided to cruelly bubble up today. He was the part that did not fit. He should not be here. Bile rose up in his swollen throat, the acidic taste stinging his tongue. What did these humans see in him? He is but a misfit - someone who never fit in anywhere. Who was starved for attention and praises that he never received in his youth. They called him the lonely angel. Lonely was correct, but angel was questionable. Angels were meant to be perfect, undamaged. They were holy, beautiful, God's messengers. He was not that. People assumed they knew him, but that just proved how clever his disguise was. If people knew what he truly was, they would turn in disgust with acid on their lips. Dancing through the universe at impressive speeds, he looked for adventures and occasionally hoped it would be his last. The impress and admiration he saw in his companions eyes, disgusted him to no end. He hated it. He despised their innocence, yet wanted to experience it - to see the universe from their eyes. He wanted to feel what they felt. What the universe meant to them, because all he could see was the cogs and bolts that went into one giant machine and it made him sad.

Unable to speak these feeling to anyone, he let it swell inside. Bulging and growing until one day his sides would burst and the true hideous monster he was, would snap its gnarly teeth and throw his ugly head back, letting loose a heinous howl. No one would stare at him with admiration again. He would be the nightmare of children's dreams.

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and his dark eyes stared at the small spot on the wall. Reverberating in his ears, were the quiet clangs of lunch being made and the soft snores of Wilf a couple doors down. Oh, if they could see him in the future, they would run screaming. But another half of his mind screamed at him, calling him fool. Not believing what the darkness informed him, this part yielded to be free of the cruel chains that dragged him down, trapping him deep in his self-hate and swallowing him whole. This part wanted to show him the actual love that he refused to believe, love that came from a family, who accepted him. But the Doctor was already gone, just another damaged part that had no hope of being fixed.

Soft clips of feet on wood were brought to his attention. From the familiar sound, he knew who it was, even before she turned the knob. Not so much as lifting his gaze in her direction, he just stared with brooding hate at the stain, on the white wall. He knew she did not care. How could anyone care about a mess like him?

"Hey, Spaceman," she whispered softly. He almost laughed at the familiar pet name and the cautious approach she used, as if he was an untamed animal that might strike at any moment. "Are you hungry?"

Shooting his eyes in her direction, he glared. With unease, she stepped back. The glare was not meant for her in any way, but at the universe and himself. Donna had shown him nothing but kindness and yet he was disregarding her, like muck on the bottom of a shoe. How could she stand him? He buried his head into the crook of his arms, drawing his knees close. In sharp movements, his head was shaking from side to side.

A soft, warm hand was placed gently, on his cool shoulder, rubbing comfortingly. Glancing up, with tearless eyes, he could see how broken she was as well. The Underground had hurt her too and he had been too selfish to notice. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her into a sitting position. Red curls splayed across his shoulder as she buried her nose into the crook of his neck. Sitting stalk still, with his arms wrapped around Donna protectively, the Doctor felt her heave a despairing breath and hot air brushing his neck. Softly kissing the crown of her head, he held her closer. He could tell she was crying. The shakiness of her voice and the puffy, redness of her eyes were a dead giveaway. But he did not know what else to do, except hold her close. They gazed towards the window, the sun shining through the drawn curtains, neither speaking, just finding comfort in each other's presence.

Donna was the first to break the silence. Her chin rested on his shoulders and she gazed into his old, broken eyes. "Spaceman, a friend is coming over today," she informed him. "She wants to visit - see how you're doing."

Squinting in suspicion, the Doctor tightened his jaw with anger. "Already deciding to get rid of me, huh?" Slack-jawed, Donna gazed at him in shock. She crossed her arms protectively across her chest.

"I would never-" she protested, but the Doctor cut her off with an even glare.

"Don't deny it Donna," he uttered. "I know that I'm difficult, but you could have just asked me to leave. I don't need anyone and I definitely don't need to talk to anyone. If I'm having problems, I can find help myself."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Donna demanded, behind gritted teeth. The Doctor jerked away from her. Standing to his feet, he leant against the wall.

"Oh, Please, stop acting innocent. It makes me sick," He responded icily. "Some Dr. Roberts called today about a psychiatric appointment. I know you've been trying to find me help, but sending me to a psychiatrist? That's just cruel and demeaning."

Chest inflating with anger, Donna shot to her feet also. She spun the Doctor around, who stood petulantly, with a frown.

"Everything is not about you," she hollered. "I set up the appointment for myself! You're not the only one suffering spaceman!" The Doctor lowered his gaze, embarrassed by his behavior. He was selfish. He had always been selfish.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"And if you were paying any sort of attention to what I said, I said _she_, not he," Donna continued. "You heard Dr. Roberts' voice. He is clearly a man!"

The Doctor tilted his head down, in shame. He didn't mean to be rude. Never had he wanted to hurt Donna's feelings and yet, he never noticed, or tried to help her. What kind of friend was he? He did not deserve anything.

"Great going, Sherlock," Donna ranted, sarcasm dripping from her lips. "You solved the mystery. I'm trying to find you a psychiatrist! I want to send you way! I never thought you would figure out my evil plot. It's world-destroying!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. What was wrong with him? He could never do anything right and here, his best friend yelled at him, for being stupid, mocking him. He deserved to be mocked. He was a universal joke. "But I heard you on the phone. Y-you said 'I don't know', after the person on the other end mentioned something about a psychiatrist."

Donna rolled her eyes, exasperated. Sometimes she forgot how acute the Doctor's hearing was. Noticing his slouched shoulders and mournful eyes, she realized she had gone too far. Sometimes she just needed to let out her frustration - scream at someone. But the person she chose was the wrong person. Her alien friend could not handle the angry rants at the moment. Covering her mouth, her blue eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't..." The Doctor pulled her into a hug, apologizing and forgiving, at the same time. Resting her head on his shoulder, Donna's cheek pressed against his chest. She massaged his aching biceps, with soft hands. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm, comforting touch. Unlike his people, who were cold and formal, humans were warm and comforting. Her warm body pressed against his was a nice change to his normally cooler body temperature. He did not know how long they held each other, but it was a nice change to the recently estranged relationship. Placing another cool, soft kiss on her cheek, he pulled away.

"Who's this friend then?" he asked, gently. He didn't want to upset her again. He never liked seeing her upset.

"Martha," Donna replied. "I called Martha and she agreed to come for a visit. She's worried about you." The Doctor nodded his head, stepping back.

"Why did you call her?" he questioned. He strode over to the window, drawing the curtains back, just as a taxi drove up.

"We need a friend," she said simply. "And Martha's our best choice. She has experience and she's a doctor."

The Doctor nodded his head and glanced over at Donna. A young woman in black stepped out of the vehicle. "She's here now."

Donna gazed over towards the window, before the doorbell rang. Her eyebrows shot up and she turned towards the door. "Stay right there. I'll be back." Shrugging his shoulders, the Doctor plopped down onto his bed.

"Where else would I go?" he muttered. He fell onto his back and studied the white ceiling. He could hear the two women chatting downstairs. He knew Donna was filling in Martha about the past few months. She had to and he found he did not mind. Martha was a friend and deserved to know. Turning his back to the door, he focused on the rocking chair, in the corner. He heard the door creak open and the sound of Sylvia's voice drifted in, as she talked animatedly with Martha. Three pairs of feet stepped into his room, aligning along the wall.

"Hey, Doctor," Martha greeted. "Long time no see."

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter will have Martha again. :) Please keep reading and tell me what you think. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi, Thank you for reading and reviewing. I apologize for the long wait, but I had a long-term battle with calculus that is still going on. Plus, add in essays, speeches, and projects life has been rather busy and I just could not find the time to write, until now. Updates may be a little more spread out then I anticipated, but never fear I have not abandoned this story in the least bit. I also waht to thank thisdayandage for helping with my story editing. So, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it. Reviews are extremely encouraging. I love feedback and hearing what people think. :)**

Chapter 12

The quiet clang of utensils against plates was the only sound made at the dinner table. Never had Martha sat through such stifling silence before, considering her family was rather loud. Having spent the whole day with the Nobles, Martha not once thought about the case she was working on at the moment. Not wanting to bring up the conspiracy with the Doctor, she shoved it to the back of her mind. Focusing all her attention on her broken friends for now, she planned to go to work tomorrow.

Her dark eyes spotted the Doctor pushing his food around, on his plate, with his fork. Boredom crossed his features, with his head rested in his arm. Viciously, he stabbed at a piece of broccoli, before yanking his fork out of the green stem. Taking a polite bite, Martha watched the other occupants round the table. Frequently, Donna batted anxious glances towards the Doctor, before heavily swallowing the food she forced between her parted lips. A deepening, worried, crest cratered the soft skin above her brow. Bluish-black bruises under her eyes expressed the anxiety and lack of sleep, the fiery red head suffered from every night. Wilf and Sylvia were no better in appearance, with the tense shoulders and uneasy glances, followed by suppressed yawns.

Lips puckered in annoyance, Sylvia watched the Doctor push around his food. Martha knew, from the sharpness in her eyes, that a nagging was about to occur. The Doctor would possibly not be able to handle it, due to his mindset at the moment.

Earlier, he had screamed at her. Something he had never done before, out of anger. Head on, Martha experienced the strained, emotional rollercoaster of change in demeanor from her old friend. Clutching his head and clenching his brown orbs shut, he questioned why she was here. Sweat beaded his brow and he had slid off the bed, so that he was kneeling on the ground with gritted teeth. Carefully, Martha had approached him, extending a hand to his shaking shoulder. He flinched from her touch. That had hurt. He was afraid of her. The Doctor was afraid of her and she only knew half of the story, from what Donna had time to explain downstairs. Before they had so much as entered his room, Donna had spoken to him in a soft and soothing fashion, how she was a doctor and was here to help, but that did not help calm him. Jumping to his feet, he scooted away from her, as if her touch burned.

"What's wrong?" she had asked. As if on an invisible string, his head jerked to the window. His ears caught the sound of laughter outside, as neighborhood kids played on the streets. On the second table stand next to his bed sat a tiny flower in a vase. Catching it in his sight, he bore into it with darkening eyes, before swiveling his head back towards the young doctor.

"I'm unfixable," he muttered under his breath. "I've been broken for a long time." Breath hitching, she made to reach a gentle hand towards him. But his eyes glazed over, in a threatening glare and he batted her approaching hand away. Angrily sneering, he plopped onto his bed, burrowing his head into his arms. "I don't need a doctor. Doctors only hurt. They don't fix. They can't fix me. I'm broken." As Martha took a closer look at the broken Time Lord in front of her, she knew that he was not unhappy to see her. His anger and hatred was not directed at her, but at himself and at the universe. Right then, she knew that this was not going to be an easy battle.

How can you convince someone to not hate themselves? That they are not the cause of disasters? It is completely impossible, a long-winded battle that never ends and Martha did not know if she could handle that. Shaking her head, she wiped away the thoughts from her mind.

She was a trooper. During the year that never was, she traveled the world and she saved the Doctor. Even if it was a bit different this time, she would do it again. It was when she had suggested a check-up to make sure he was physically doing alright that she noticed how immediately he went on the defensive. Behaving like a cornered animal, he became unpredictable, muscles tensed, ready to strike. He had not liked the suggestion. Comments about physical health were not going to help here. Deciding against her best instincts, she had to squash her doctor mode and force it into a corner of her mind, for the time being. Unlike his time on the Valiant, during the year that never was, or the sun entity that possessed him on the Pentallian, the Doctor didn't seem to be bouncing back like he used to. But then again, he might have never really bounced back at all.

He was a good actor, she knew that for sure. It would be quite simple for him to deceive her, if he wanted to keep his true feelings hidden. It angered her that she could not see how the trauma had been building up for quite a while. It angered her how she could have ever turned a blind eye and instead abandon him, when he needed her the most. And it angered her that she was not there to stop the Underground, or help him in the beginning. That he was alone and had been alone for a while, swimming in self-hate, until he found Donna.

What kind of friend was she? How could she not have seen the tell-tale signs of distress and anxiety from the beginning? Why had it taken for something truly awful to finally make him snap and let all those suppressed emotions flow, like a dam collapsing. It angered her that she could not see through his mask of cheerfulness, the whole time she traveled with him. Losing his people is something she knew he should be depressed about. It was just that she never thought too deeply about it, because she could not begin to relate or comprehend. The Underground just made those feelings worse and now she was witnessing, what happens when a Time Lord - when the Doctor, finally just gives up.

It hurts. It hurts because he is her hero, her mentor, her former-infatuation, and her friend. To see him so broken, without the cheerful smile that normally hid the pain, ripped her apart. He was battling the dark corners of his mind and the constant fear that jumped up his throat, whenever he saw his own shadow on the wall, or heard a loud clang that rung his eardrums. But Martha was strong. She was a doctor and she had experience. She would help him in every way she could. She would make him see the good he had done and rid him of the gnawing guilt that ate away at his very being.

Escaping her thought and returning to reality, she peered around the dinner table. The dining room chandelier shone overhead, illuminating the room in a bright yellow. Hearing a huff, she turned to Sylvia, whose hands gripped her chair arms and she stared daggers at the oblivious Doctor. Wilf took another quiet bite, before placing a tense consoling hand on Sylvia's arm. With a sigh, Martha turned back to her meal, waiting for the nagging fit to happen. From her day at the Noble's, she had learned already, that Sylvia was quite the nagger - even more than her own mother. But she knew that it was Sylvia's own way of showing concern. She was a hard woman. Years of hardship and loss wore her thin and she didn't have a soft, motherly bone in her body...or so people assumed. But Martha, noticed a smothered spark in the woman and knew she did care, even if she would never admit it out loud.

It was the soft voice that she used with the Doctor sometimes, or the sudden willingness to help that exposed her true self that she expertly hid under a hard shell of indifference and shallowness. Possibly, it was the way she was raised, or the friends that she spent time with, or even events that turned her cold that caused her to be the way she was. But she doubted it was the first. Wilf's kindness and gentleness showed that Sylvia was raised in a loving home, but then again relationships could change over time and there was quite a possibility that Sylvia did not have the ideal home life as a child. In all, Sylvia did care, although she just showed it in a different way.

Electricity crackled around the table, as Sylvia stiffly stood to her feet. With a death grip, she held onto the table tightly, knuckles turning white. The dark bruises, from lack of sleep, flared under her eyes, as her blue orbs caught fire and her hair bristled. Uncontrolled anger radiated from her body, caused by exhaustion and worry. Tiny hairs on Martha's arm stood on end, as the room darkened and the light above flashed. The room began to shake and knickknacks fell to the floor. The dinner jittered and slid across the wooden table. Sylvia's anger was bubbling over, like an erupting volcano. Lava slid down its rocky edges. The world shook, before halting in place. The Doctor's eyes finally catching hold of Sylvia, the staring battle began, as two stubborn beings went head to head.

"Why don't you eat the food I put in front of you?" Sylvia hissed in anger. Donna glanced over, surprised from the sudden change in her mother's attitude towards the Doctor. "You're going to wither and die, if you don't eat."

The Doctor stuck his chin up, defiantly. Crashing his fork to the table, he met Sylvia's steady glare with his own. "Don't we all," he replied and scooted away from the table. The legs of the chair screeched against the wooden floor. "I'm not hungry."

"Oi!" Sylvia snapped. "I'm not finished with you yet, Mister. I want you to eat at least half of that meal I made. You're too skinny and the last time you ate was a good few days ago. I'm not going to stand for this any longer."

"Then, I'll leave," he retorted. "I'm better off by myself anyways!" He threw the chair back with strength she did not know he possessed, shattering it against the wall. Turning away, with a huff, he stepped over the splintered remains of the chair, leaving Sylvia fuming and Wilf's eyes widening in shock. Clutching her red hair, Donna screwed her eyes shut. Her cheeks brightened a dark color to match, from the bubbling anger that would spill from her lips. Wilf sat quietly, not knowing how to deal with the chaotic situation.

"How dare you break my things?" Sylvia screeched, contorting her face into an ugly sneer, as she leapt to her feet. "You selfish brat, I've tried to help you-"

"Oh, really," the Doctor hissed, spinning back around to face Sylvia. Every muscle in his neck tensed and his fists were balling, as he fought back the urge to break something else. Sylvia stepped back a bit, eyes widening, before settling back into her determined glint.

"Yes," she fired. "But it takes two, to make it work. And you are so unwilling to be helped." The Doctor's face darkened and he growled menacingly. That was when two chairs were thrown back simultaneously. Martha and Donna stood to their feet, confronting the battling personalities.

"Stop it, this instant," Martha shouted, while Donna yelled 'knock it off', at the same time. The Doctor and Sylvia turned to face the other three occupants at the table, the light still rattling.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Martha stated, once the room had slightly calmed.

"Mum, quit yelling at the Doctor," Donna snapped in response. "We're all tired, but let's not let it out on one another!"

"But he won't eat," Sylvia cried, exasperatedly. "I'm tired of watching him lose weight. I'm tired of listening to him cry at night! And I'm tired of seeing him sulk around this house!" She spun to face the Doctor, with crinkled lips. "Why won't you get better?"

"This is why I should leave," the Doctor replied, sourly. "I only break families apart." Slowly, he treaded towards the stairs, before Martha's voice halted him in his tracks.

"Oh, no you don't, Mister," Martha exclaimed. "We're going to talk through this. We are going out into that living room and we are going to sit on that couch and we are going to discuss the issues and anxieties we feel, because I know all four of you are suffering from them. Hence, the short and easily flared tempers."

"I don't need too..." but Martha fixed the Doctor with a determined stare, halting him in his response. Bobbing his head slowly, he shuffled back over to the table and brushed the remains of the wooden chair away with his foot. Lowering himself to the ground, he placed his head softly into the crook of his arm.

"Sorry," he apologized. Tears prickled his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Mum," Donna stated. "Maybe you should go upstairs and get some rest. You look worn."

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," she agreed, before observing the destroyed dining room. "But the mess-"

"I'll take care of it mum," Donna cut in. "Just go up and get some sleep. You'll feel refreshed in the morning." Sylvia's fingers twitched anxiously throughout the unkempt mess of blonde hair, as anxiety and stress raced through her veins. The dining room was in complete disarray and she should clean it up, but Donna did promise to tidy it. With a defeated huff, she shuffled out the door and up the stairs. The quiet bang, of the bedroom door closing, was heard from below.

"Gramps?" Donna beckoned. Wilf glanced up with old, tired, blue eyes.

"What is it sweetheart?" he replied.

"Do you want to rest as well?" she asked. Wilf shook his head, sipping at the cool, white milk in his hand.

"You wanted a family meeting, didn't you?" he replied with a question. "And I already know what the lad's been through. I should be there for him."

Nodding her head, Donna decided it was no use arguing with her grandfather. Martha sat next to the shaking Doctor, holding him close and slowly aiding him to his feet.

"Come on, Doctor," she encouraged. "Let's get you to the living room, alright?" the Doctor shook, as he was dragged down to the living room, his feet unable to grip the floor. He was a mess, the sudden burst of energy slowly draining from his body.

Wilf and Donna soon followed into the living room and sat stiffly, in their seats. Hiccoughing sobs bubbled up The Doctor's throat, as he lay, sprawled on the couch. With an expert eye, Martha slowly processed the situation, attempting to figure out where to begin. She remembered talking to her own psychiatrist, when her family dealt with the aftermaths of the year that never was. She remembered some of the questions he asked and decided to use that tactic to get everyone to talk. The Doctor, she decided, might not want to speak at all about the issues, usually being the type to hold in his feelings. Though plainly showing them right now, she highly doubted the Doctor would talk, even with gentle coaxing. This left Donna, who probably would be a bit more open than the Doctor.

"Does anyone want to start, or should I?" Martha began, giving everyone a welcoming and easy glance. She was met with silence. "Alright then, I'll start. Let's begin, by talking about our feelings." She was met with more silence. "Anyone?" God, she should not be doing this. She was a physician, not a psychiatrist. How can she fix anyone, without knowing the first step? Yes, she took a bit of psychology in college, but that didn't make her a professional.

"Frustrated," Donna muttered, under her breath. "Bloody tired and frustrated," Martha nodded her head, steadily watching each person, waiting for another answer.

"I understand the tired bit," Wilf added. "Haven't had a full night's rest for a while." He swallowed thickly, pulling at his collar. "I'm also worried about my granddaughter and her safety, as well as, the Doctor's."

Martha glanced around, waiting for more responses. She was mostly hopeful that the Doctor would say something, but he never answered any of the questions she threw out. His mouth stayed clamp shut. Frustrated, anxious, fearful, angry, hateful, hopeless, all these words were thrown around. Donna and Wilf expressed everything that they have felt in great detail, but not the Doctor. Instead he stiffened, focusing on a piece of thread that hung loosely from the blanket. His mouth shut and no emotions passed his face, after the last breakdown. He pretended nothing was going on, there was no conversation and no one was in the room. As the ranting diminished and the room broke out into calm, Martha held a satisfied look on her face. It was twelve o'clock at night and the clock struck a chilling tune, announcing the hour change.

"It's getting late," Martha stated. "I think it's time to settle down and go to bed." Donna leaned her head on her Gramps's shoulder. Yawning deeply, old tear tracks painted her cheeks. The trio slowly climbed to their feet, deciding to ignore the Doctor's continuous picking. They had nothing to say to him, since he would not answer back. His eyes were lost in the clouds of thought and he did not register the people leaving him.

"Afraid," he softly muffled. Martha's ears perked up at the raspy answer. "I feel afraid."

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**The Next Morning:**

The young girl sat on top of the lush green grass, as she picked the many daisies that littered the ground. Happily, she smiled, as the wind brushed her cheeks and hair. Her eyes explored the morning sky, with excitement. Before going to school, her Mum had let her go outside early, so she could pick a few flowers. Noticing a bright blue flower, sprouting from the earth, her head perked. Her Mum had shown her those flowers before, they were called...oh she could not remember. It was some long name that only her mother knew, since she was a flower expert. But she knew her friends and classmates would love them during show and tell and ambled to her feet. Walking over to the alluring blue flower, she bent down to pick it, but instead let out a horrendous shriek. Greenish-blue acid shot out of the flower and at her face. Falling to the ground, she clawed at the burns. The acid was eating away at her skin. Leaves and stems, from the flower reached out towards her and wrapped around her legs, digging into her soft flesh. The girl let out one last shriek, until her voice was silenced for good. Nothing but the chirping of birds could be heard.

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**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope you review and let me know what you think. I don't know when I'll get the next one out. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I want to thank thisdayandage for proofreading this chapter and giving me ideas on how to make my story better. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Tell me what you think through a review. :)**

Chapter 13

**1:00 AM:**

'Afraid.' He had told her he was afraid. The Doctor was never afraid...he was the Doctor, hero and protector of the universe. How could he be afraid? But Martha knew why. In detail, she had been told about Donna's and the Doctor's nightmarish trip. About being trapped for months, afraid and tortured and how the Doctor got the brunt of the abuse. She knew why he was afraid. It was obvious.

With a glance around Donna's room, Martha plopped down on the light red duvet. Listening to the water running across the hall, she leaned against the headboard and sighed deeply. Donna had invited her to spend the night. Martha kindly accepted. She had no intentions of getting a taxi and going home at one in the morning. Besides, spending the night would give her the excuse of keeping an eye on the Doctor. Catching sight of the picture on the side-table, she picked it up gently and examined it.

It was a picture of the Doctor and Donna. Brown and blue eyes gleamed with mirth, as they sat on a wall overlooking ancient Greece. A cheeky grin was slowly making its way across the Doctor's lips and he had a mischievous wink in his eye that could be defined as devilish. Donna's red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands elegantly framing her face. A similar smile to the Doctor's graced her lips. How they managed to get a picture in ancient Greece, she had no idea. Knowing the Doctor though, he probably taught some wandering Grecian how to use a camera. She swallowed down the giggle that bubbled up her throat. The Doctor always preached about how the past was not to be messed about with or how people should not be given technology that is before their time, yet he seemed to consistently break that one rule. She was certain that the man or woman taking the picture had resulted in those cheeky grins.

Knowing the picture was taken before the Underground, it saddened her. She wished that the Doctor could be rid of those awful memories of the Underground and had even gone as far as to considering rewriting his past. It was in her future and it would be so simple to be in the right place at the right time and stop him and Donna from being kidnapped. It would never have happened and the Doctor and Donna would still be traveling through the stars, stopping wars and creating peace. But she knew that the Doctor would not ever allow it. He would prefer the pain from his months of imprisonment, than the paradox it would cause if she tried to prevent it.

Also, she knew the Doctor and his TARDIS were time sensitive. By her trying to help them, she would inevitably create a time paradox, which would likely hurt him more, rather than provide him with any sort of peace. Even with a paradox, the Doctor would still remember his time in the Underground. Martha exhaled. She would have to stay out. Donna had told her about the Underground and Martha knew because of that, she would have to disappear for those few months. She could not get involved because it was now on her timeline and her being there for the rescue would cause problems to the timelines. She had to avoid that year and sadly not come to the Doctor's aid when he most needed it.

"That was taken in 429 BC." Martha jumped, almost dropping the picture. She spun around, as Donna in a night dress approached her. Pushing wet ginger hair out of her face, she positioned herself down next to Martha. Fingering the photo softly, she ran a gentle touch along the framework designs. A sad look misted her blue eyes. "He felt bad about taking me to Pompeii on Volcano Day. So, the next morning he surprised me with a trip to Athens." A smile of remembrance curved the corners of her lips. "We had a blast and he was the one who encouraged the picture, the daft prawn."

Martha intently gazed at the photo, listening to the tale that Donna told. "He scared the poor man half to death with the 'magical' instant painter. The poor man believed we were gods afterward and went running off to tell all of his friends." Martha chuckled at the shared memory. "We left Athens soon after though. Wherever the Doctor is, monsters are soon to be found. A man came to us exclaiming their village was being terrorized by the gorgon, Medusa, and the Doctor agreed to help him. I thought I jumped right into a Greek mythology tale! We went to investigate. The one thing I found I disliked about traveling away from Athens was the lack of bathrooms. When you need a loo going in a hole is the last thing you want to do."

"He's taken me to a couple places like that," Martha agreed. "But it's always fun to witness history first hand. He took me to see the drafting of the declaration of independence. Now, that was interesting - nothing what the paintings show for sure."

"What was it like?" Donna asked.

"Well, there was a lot of yelling and arguing, similar to blokes at a football game," Martha concluded. "I thought a fight would break out." There was a moment of silence, until Donna started the conversation again.

"I met Benjamin Franklin," Donna responded. "It was an interesting confrontation. Spaceman basically said 'Donna I want you to meet my friend Ben, I was struck twice by lightening because of him.'"

Martha fell backwards on the bed, giggling. "Yeah, I heard that story the day I met him. He was lucky he wasn't admitted to the psychiatric ward."

The laughter grew louder, as tears slid down the two women's eyes. They clutched their stomachs, hair splayed across the bed. Until the laughter turned into desperate sobs and Martha turned her head, sympathetically watching Donna. Her hands covered her face, desperately trying to hold back the tears.

"I'm sorry," Donna apologized. "I shouldn't cry. We were having fun and...Look at me! I'm nothing but a..."

"No, Donna," Martha stated. "It's only natural to cry when you've been through as much as you have."  
"I'm supposed to be strong," Donna muttered. "I can't breakdown now. I need to be there for the Spaceman." Her bottom lip wobbled, as suppressed emotions escalated. "I want him back."

"I know," Martha assured. "I know. I want him back too. But, the only way we can get him back is to help him. Show him what he means to us and help him accept what happened to him and move on."

Martha caught Donna's teary blue eyes. "How?" Shrugging shoulders, they watched the stars outside the bedroom window. Millions of stars and galaxies were up in those dark skies. Billions of species on billions of planets and the Doctor had seen most of them. Every planet had a tale to tell about the Doctor, some good, others bad, but all about a lonely traveler that danced among his starry home. He was a man born to protect time and space and he could not be kept away forever.

"With time," Martha replied and bowed her head. "I should have stayed with him after The Year That Never Was. He was broken then and I chose to ignore it. I chose to leave him and let him suffer alone. It's all my fault. I could have stopped it all..."

"Shut up," Donna interrupted. The tears in her eyes had dried.

"Pardon me," Martha spoke back in shock, surprised that her self-pity was halted so abruptly.

"I said shut up," Donna confirmed. "You did what you had to do and I heard an ear full about the 'Year That Never Was' and how your family was treated. You made the right decision. Your family needed you and you went with them and helped them through their traumatizing experience. That was the right thing to do."

Nodding her head, Martha wrapped her arms around her knees, eyes gazing out towards the stars. She had done the right thing, but she could not help but think about the Doctor and his pain. He was just as tortured as her family. "Besides, the Doctor found me. Although he didn't tell me anything at first, I learned a bit about it and was able to speak with him about everything that happened. Martha Jones, what you did was very brave. You saved Earth on your own and that is the most heroic thing I have ever heard. You pushed aside your own need for comfort, were there to help the Doctor and afterwords you decided to help your family heal instead of continuing with your travels. Now that is selfless."

"Thank you," Martha responded sincerely.

"Don't feel guilty. You did what you had to do and now you are helping us when we need it most," Donna continued. "Martha Jones, you are a remarkable woman and never second guess yourself."

Her cheeks flushed a light red as she bowed her head in slight embarrassment from Donna's small speech. The compliments had boosted her spirit more than Donna could ever realise. With a new flame of determination sparking inside of her, she knew she could help the Doctor. It had been she who had encouraged him to speak about the war and his lost planet, after being stuck on the motorway for hours. He had opened up more to her then, than he had to anybody else in his past and she was pretty sure it was all because of her own encouraging stubbornness.

Yes, what he told her about the war shocked her, but it was like any other war story and she would never shun him. She knew he did not tell her everything. It was only the tidbits that he was comfortable speaking about, that she heard. She hoped that one day the Doctor would come to realise that he means so much more to his friends than he gave himself credit for. They would accept him for who he was, no matter what he did in his past. But, as of this moment, the Doctor did not, could not, see that. He held all of his emotions close to his chest, once in a while giving his companions a small dose of vulnerability.

"I think he's afraid to feel vulnerable," Donna stated, pulling the words right out of Martha's mind. "I believe he feels he has to be brave around us, even though he's scared. I think he's afraid that if he shows his vulnerable side that we would despise him." Martha huffed in agreement. The Doctor was a tricky case. He was bull-headed and refused to show emotions that would contradict the persona he made for himself. Now that the Underground had happened, his emotions were no longer under his control and Martha knew that angered him. The Doctor liked to be in control. Uncontrolled people tend to do stupid acts and the Doctor did not want to be like that.

The flicking of ginger hair caught Martha's attention and her gaze immediately settled on Donna Noble. She took in Donna's appearance. The way her knees rested against her chest and her freckled arms wrapped around her legs. A steady chin rested on top her drawn knees and blue eyes stared blankly straight ahead with an undertone of horror. Donna had seen too much. She had seen things that many people should not have ever witnessed. She bore the look that Martha and her family once had and it pained the young woman.

That traumatized look was all too familiar, but it came with the job. Traveling through time and space was an experience that is unforgettable, but it comes with a price. You view on the universe changes forever and not always for the better. The Doctor once told her that traveling with him was dangerous. People got hurt and people died. But Martha had ignored his warning, deciding to risk it and so did Donna. It was a risk she would have taken again, even if she knew what would happen in her future.

"How did you and your family cope after the year that never was?"

Martha sighed heavily, brushing back her fringe. "UNIT helped us."

"How?"

"They hired a psychiatrist to speak with us. I remember how afraid Tish was. She had seen so much death and each one was ingrained into her mind. It was the same with Mum and Dad. The therapy helped a lot and brought our family closer together. Leo came too, though he didn't remember anything. The last thing he remembered was the Toclafane assassinating the president."

Donna's pink tongue poked out between her lips, as her mind rummaged through all the information she had gained. Curious who Martha's psychiatrist was, she wondered if it was the same man that she visited. He did work for UNIT. It had said on his bio. She had specifically searched for someone with connections to UNIT and Dr. Roberts was the only one who popped up. Maybe, if she asked, she could rid all of her lingering suspicions and feel safer talking to the man. He had not given off any predatory vibes, but she had been through too much and her trust for people was lacking.

"Who was your psychiatrist?" Donna enquired, quirking a brow.

"Dr. Roberts," Martha replied. "He's a good man. Helped our family through our trauma and listened to everything we had to say without interruption. His wife and daughter were in a crash and from that were permanently brain damaged. It's quite sad actually, but he devoted his life to helping people through traumatic issues."

"So he knows about aliens and the likes of that," Donna probed.

"Of course he does," Martha exclaimed. "Well, sort of. He hasn't had a meeting with one yet, but UNIT filled him in."

"So, UNIT trusts him?"

"I believe so. They did a background check and found he was clean. Actually, they did several, including one on his wife and daughter. They did a bit of surveillance work as well and didn't notice anything suspicious, even read his book. After that, they called him. Interrogated him and found nothing suspicious or concerning."

"And they just hired him after all of that?"

"No, they basically gave him the ground rules, if he chose to work with him, before giving him a couple days to decide. If they ever found him doing something against UNIT rules, they would retcon him."

"Erase his memory?"

"Completely. To the point where he wouldn't know which way was up or down."

"Why him?"

"I believe a UNIT brigadier had visited him with an issue, concerning a car accident. Dr. Roberts helped him a lot, during his visits, and he seemed like a capable man. UNIT also needed a psychiatrist. The last one quit. Found the job too hard, which is absolutely ridiculous considering he's a psychiatrist. But, the brigadier liked him a lot and suggested him to one of the higher ups." Martha glanced at Donna curiously, a thin eyebrow rising sharply. "Why all the questions?"

"I searched for a psychiatrist I could talk to and stumbled upon Dr. Roberts. He seemed genuine enough, so I went to talk with him. I still had my paranoid suspicions."

"Completely understandable," Martha replied.

"I was afraid to contact UNIT. They were involved with the Doctor's rescue and I don't know enough about the laws of time. I was worried if I told them, it would be crossing their timelines and that would cause a paradox, if they attempt to find the Underground, before me and the Doctor were captured. I can't even pretend to know the ends and outs of paradoxes, but what I do know is that they can cause a lot of destruction."

"And now that you've told me about the Underground in 2015, I can't be there because my arrival would cause a slight change in the event."

"So, I'm left on my own," Donna sighed.

"Not exactly," Martha replied. "I could let UNIT know. I'll keep the story vague, but this means I could get you help."

A hopeful smile broke across Donna's face, before it switched to a look of puzzlement. "Should I keep visiting Dr. Roberts? I'm seeing him tomorrow. I haven't told him much about the Doctor, except slight details of his situation. He wanted a picture, so if the Doctor disrupts societal peace he could easily get him in a ward."

"UNIT has a hospital, with a psychiatric ward, specifically for aliens. If the Doctor gets any worse, we can bring him there for 24/7 help. It's a really clean place and the staff there is extremely patient, which is blessing in itself. I've been there a couple of times, for monthly check-ups and to make sure no one is a carrier of a foreign illness that can affect the general public."

"I don't want to lock him away," Donna muttered. "He needs me and I need him and I promised to stay with him forever."

"I understand," Martha replied. "But if worse comes to worse."

Donna nodded her head, glaring straight ahead. The whole situation made her angry and the thought of sending the Doctor away made her blood boil. She did not know why she was reacting so strongly to a suggestion. However, she knew it was a possibility that could happen in the future and that terrified her. She did not want to lose him. She was feeling a bit overprotective of that skinny alien. He had slowly and sneakily made his way into her heart, to the point where she could no longer imagine a life without him.

The two women sat in companionable silence, watching the stars twinkle against the black drop sky. The crescent shape moon shone, un-whole and waiting to grow. Catching the clock in the corner of her eye, she noticed the large red-numbers that slowly ticked off another minute. In red, 2:31 glared. They had spoken long enough that Donna's hair was almost dry.

"It's getting late," Donna muttered. Her eyes still fixed on the stars. "We should probably go to bed."

Martha nodded her agreement, but neither made any haste to move. "Is he asleep?"

"No," Donna answered, knowing exactly who she was talking about. "He's up tinkering with a broken iron that my Mum asked him to fix."

Martha nodded her head, before glancing around Donna's room.

"Where should I sleep tonight?"

"In here if you like. It is a queen size...or if you feel uncomfortable I can take the cou-"

"No, it's fine. I'll sleep here tonight."

She hopped off the bed and quickly drew back the duvet and climbed in. Donna climbed in on the other side, her head flopping back against the pillow. She scooted down into the warm bed and tossed the duvet over her, before turning on her side and facing away from Martha, she switched off the lamp next to her bed and closed her eyes. "Night."

"Night," Martha replied. She too switched off her lamp and closed her eyes. Both women fell into a quiet slumber.

* * *

**8:00 in the morning:**

A soft buzzing danced towards Martha's ears. She squirmed and threw the blankets over her head. The buzzing grew louder as it vibrated against the table. She sighed heavily, peeling her sleep heavy eyes open. The bright morning sun shone in her sensitive eyes, as she brushed a fist against her eyelids, trying to clear them. The vibration halted and a loud ding announcing a missed call brought her out of her sleepy stupor. She glanced towards the cellphone that rested on the wooden bedside table. The phone started vibrating again. Her hand shot out and grabbed the cellular device. Flipping the cell open, she brought into her ear, quietly groaning.

"Dr. Martha Jones speaking," she said formally, her hand covered a wide yawn and a morning grunt. Donna was no longer in the bed and she could hear breakfast being made downstairs and quiet chatting being made between three people. Most likely Donna, Wilf, and Sylvia.

"_Martha, another victim has been found earlier this morning. We estimate around 7:10,"_ The clip and professional voice of Colonel Mace stated. "_We need you down in the labs immediately."_

Martha's face hardened and she threw the covers off and grabbed her pants that were discarded on the ground, as well as her shirt. Removing the pajamas that Donna let her borrow, she hastily dressed.

"I'm on my way." She clicked the cell off, before throwing in her boots and marching downstairs.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that chapter and will leave a review. I don't know when my next update will be, but I'm hoping it will be soon. Thanks again for following, favoriting, and reviewing my story!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I want to also thank ThisDayandAge for proof-reading my stuff. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 14

"Josephine Millbrook, age eight. Died under mysterious circumstances," UNIT's morgue attendant listed off everything about the young girl, who had died earlier this morning. "According to her mother she was out picking flowers for her class show and tell, when she heard the terrified shriek." Her dark eyes were clouded with sympathy, as Martha stared at the angelic face of Josephine Millbrook. Blonde locks curled around the girl's ghostly paled face and her wide green eyes were opened blankly towards the fluorescent lights, hanging from the morgue ceiling. A white cloth covered her torso and feet as her body lay on the hard metal slab. "Her Mother, Edith Millbrook was a florist and her father owned Millbrook's bakery, located down the street. Just like the other cases, nothing links to Josephine's death except..."

"The green mark," Martha finished sadly. "Every victim had a green mark on their neck." The Morgue attendant nodded his head. His skin paled against the blinding lights, making him appear like one of the deceased.

"I've noticed," he responded. He turned Josephine's head to the side, exposing the green mark on her neck. It was fuzzy, like foliage, and it seemed to be pulsing and spreading down her neck. "The other two, Ralph Horseman and Sandra Baker, the spot has spread a lot more rapidly since you last seen them."

Martha turned her gaze from the deceased girl to the morgue attendant. She lifted a quizzical brow, before crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you mean?"

The morgue attendant scratched the back of his neck, before turning towards the wall length metal case, against the wall. Martha watched him as he pulled out two more bodies, one of a man in his late 40's to early 50's and one of a woman with course black hair. Rolling the trolley over, he placed the two bodies next to the one of Josephine's. Martha's eyes widened in shock and she immediately placed a gloved hand on the young woman.

Sandra Baker was the first victim Martha had discovered. The memory was still vivid in her mind, considering she died after the second earthquake London faltered to. She had been found in the morning, twisted in ivy vines that climbed up a large tree. Her face was blue, as the vines twisted around her neck, eyes popping out from the pressure. But the most startling thing that Martha discovered was the needle-like vine sticking into Sandra's neck.

Sandra had been dressed in jogging clothes, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail and her visor covering her eyes. Martha had immediately discovered the green spot. A couple weeks later, Ralph Horseman died with the similar green marking on his neck and needle like puncture wounds. And now Josephine. The deaths were abnormal and UNIT decided to keep the deceased a secret from the general public. No need to cause panic. But, Martha wondered if these were the only three people dead. There had been quite a few earthquakes and she wondered if others died and UNIT was unable to find them.

"The spot that started on their neck has spread throughout their body, like a virus or a rash," the Morgue attendant stated. "You can see it pulsing throughout their veins." And what he said was true. Green lines spread throughout the bodies, painting them a light green. Green fuzz seemed to sprout from certain areas and a bulge was forming from behind their chests. Martha touched the bulge and it moved. Her hand flew back and her mouth gaped in shock. What was that? The Morgue attendant had immediately noticed her shock.

"We've tried to open up their chests, but whatever is inside of them doesn't want out."

"Have you tried using a laser," Martha asked. "I know UNIT has a surgical laser from a crashed medical ship, from the planet Roshane. Have you attempted using that?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the attendant answered. "We have. It didn't help the situation. The patch there has regenerative properties. Why? I don't know. But each time we get close to opening it. It closes up and the skin tightens into a strong, impenetrable armor."

"Something's growing inside and I want to know what," A gruff voice commanded behind the young doctor and the morgue attendant. Martha spun around to face Colonel Mace, who had two UNIT soldiers on either side of him. Both wore guns in their holsters and a red beret atop their shaved heads. She respectfully saluted and stated 'Sir.'

"Dr. Jones," he greeted. "What have you found on the victims?"

"Take a look Sir."

Colonel Mace stepped forward, leaning towards the dead bodies. His lips twitched, but he did not speak. He waited. Martha cleared her throat, turning Ralph's head to the side.

"The green spot is spreading like a rash. It's dispersing underneath the skin and has covered Mr. Horseman and Ms. Baker from head to toe in a pale green pigment, darker along the veins." Mace nodded his head silently, waiting for her to continue.

"As you said there is something inside their chest cavity, I just don't know what. Mr. Winston..." she gestured towards the morgue attendant and several other medical scientists have tried to open them up, but have failed. It seems that whatever is inside of them is protected by the bodies, which are acting as incubation. The skin is impenetrable."

"Tell me something I don't know Dr. Jones," Colonel Mace interrupted. Martha brushed her fringe back and bit her bottom lip.

"The deaths seem to follow each earthquake we have had," Martha responded. "Usually the victim dies the next morning." That caught Colonel Mace's attention.

"Continue," he ordered.

"Each victim has been found near..." Martha's eyes widened, as she thought of how each person died, strangled by vines, laid out on the grass, with puncture wounds and now a girl found dead next to an assortment of daisies and other flowers.

"Dr. Jones," Colonel Mace grunted impatiently.

"Plants, Sir. Each victim has been found next to plants. Either strangled or stabbed to death, Oh God." She ran her hand through her hair, a habit she had picked up from the Doctor. "But why, how?"

"Flowers, Jones. You believe that these people are being killed by foliage," he questioned, disbelievingly.

"Well, it's possible," Martha stated. "We've dealt with Atmos and other alien attacks. Why not killer plants?"

"Little Shop of Horror," Winston, the morgue attendant, muttered. Colonel Mace tensely spun around to face Mr. Winston.

"Little Shop of Horror?" he questioned, emphasizing each word.

"Yeah, you know that movie with the giant..."

"I know what the movie is," Colonel Mace barked. He massaged his temples, before turning and facing Martha. "Contact the Doctor."  
"What sir?"

"I said contact the Doctor. I want him at UNIT now. I want a professional opinion on the situation." Martha stepped forward, pulling off her latex gloves.

"Sir, I don't think that would be wise at the moment."

"I don't care what you think Dr. Jones. I want the Doctor's opinion and I want this case closed." He marched out the door, his hands behind his back. The two soldiers followed him. Martha huffed in frustration, before facing Mr. Winston.

"Mr. Winston," she said with authority. "Perform an ultrasound on the three victims. I want to know what's inside of them. Contact me when you find out."

"Yes, Dr. Jones," he agreed. He put the bodies away and Martha followed Mace closely behind.

"Colonel Mace," Martha hollered. The Colonel paused and slowly turned. His eyes met Martha's dark orbs. "Yes, Dr. Jones?"

"The Doctor is incapable of coming at the moment."

"And why is that, Dr. Jones?" Martha firmly stood her ground, crossing her arms.

"Because he's not well."

"Then give him medical attention. Earth needs him right now. It's crucial that he comes. Contact him now."

"He is on Earth," Martha replied. "But, he's been staying at a friend's house...the Doctor's been through a lot in the last few months. He's become a bit...paranoid."

"Paranoid?"

"He's afraid to leave the house," Martha stated. "The Doctor's suffered through a traumatizing event and needs time to heal. I don't want to push him into another adventure so soon."

"What happened, Jones?"

"I can't really say, since I wasn't there. But, his friend, Donna, told me he was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?"

"Yes Sir." Colonel Mace stood tensely for a second, evaluating the information before he answered.

"Earth needs him right now. His issues can wait." Martha stood, gaping.

"Colonel Mace, the Doctor is not in the right mindset to save Earth. UNIT can do it and we can ask for Torchwood's assistance. We've done it before, when the Doctor wasn't there to help us."

"Your devotion to your friend is heart-warming Dr. Jones, but right now the safety of Earth and its people is more important to me then the Doctor's traumas. We can help him later."

She knew she wasn't going to convince the Colonel. He had made up his mind and he was not going to sway. Overwhelmed, she leant against the wall. "Oh Dr. Jones, getting him out of that house now would be beneficial. The sooner he's helping, the sooner this case is closed." She glared at the Colonel's back as he marched away. She pushed off the wall and shoved her hands into her lab-coat pockets. She stalked down the hall, plans racing through her mind as she thought of a way to encourage the Doctor to leave Donna's home.

* * *

Donna sat on the couch, in Dr. Roberts' office once more. The gentle ticking of the clock against the wall, played with her ears. She could hear the people and cars outside on the busy streets of London. Across from her sat Dr. Roberts, in the brown chair, notepad in hand. Glasses perched on his nose and his warm dark eyes watched Donna intently, as she fidgeted with the cup of tea in her hands. She took a steady sip, the warm liquid scalding her tongue and sliding down her throat. Running a steady hand through her red hair, she leaned back.

"Good tea," she muttered, before taking another sip. Dr. Roberts nodded kindly, before picking up his own cup and taking a sip.

"Thank you," he replied. He placed his cup back onto the coffee table. "How's your John Smith doing lately?"

Donna coughed. "Fine, fine. He's doing ok..." she stuttered. Dr. Roberts gave her a look of disbelief. She sighed. "He has his moments. Still has nightmares, flashbacks, and all those lovely irrational fears, but honestly..."

"He's not getting better, is he," Dr. Roberts stated, matter-of-factly.

"No," Donna concurred. "Not really. He's making an effort though. He's distracting himself now, by fixing household items and he has started to talk about his feelings a bit. Well, a sentence but there's a start for everything." She chuckled nervously, quickly bringing the tea to her lips once more, to avoid continuing the conversation.

Nodding his head, Dr. Roberts jotted something down on the pad. Donna leaned forward out of curiosity, before quickly focusing on her cup of tea.

"So, how's your family?" she started, changing the subject. Her finger traced the patterns on the cup. "Anything new?" She didn't know if she was being invasive, but she had decided if Dr. Roberts wanted to know about her private life, then she might as well get a few tidbits about his. In curiosity, Donna arched a brow and quirked a corner of her lips.

Dr. Roberts cleared his throat. "Good. They're both doing well. My wife has just finished her second term of therapy and I've been by her side every second of the day. My daughter, Heather, has finally gained the courage and will to enter a moving vehicle since the crash. She lost a lot of her memory, but she is slowly regaining it. I think they'll both be fine in the long-run."

Donna nodded her head, crossed her legs and placed her tea on the table.

"How have you been holding up, Ms. Noble?" Dr. Roberts fished, holding a steady and encouraging gaze. "Any nightmares?" She shrugged.

"A few," she answered. "But not as many as before. I still sometimes have the bombarding memories of that nightmare of a place, but I'm learning to live with it. I've enlisted help from a dear friend and she's been talking with me and John. Helping us through everything. Martha Jones, is a wonderful woman and a great doctor." Donna took an innocent sip of her tea, a smile playing at her lips.

Dr. Roberts's eyebrows shot up and he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Oh, you know Martha Jones?" Donna feigned surprise.

"You know her. What a coincidence! Such a small world Earth is, isn't it? She's a friend of mine and John's."

"Yes, her and her family conversed with me about some issues they faced. I am not at liberty to tell you. Patients confidentiality and all. But, seeing as you know Ms. Jones then I'm sure you already know."

"Oh, yes. She's told me."

"How has Dr. Jones been? I haven't spoken with her in a while."

"Excellent, actually. She's been working hard. Busy."

He leaned against his chair, scratching the back of his head, before tapping the pen on his pad. "I know UNIT keeps her pretty busy." Donna smiled.

"Yes, they do."

"But, we're not here to talk about Dr. Jones. We're here to talk about you and Mr. Smith. Now, have you read the book?"

Donna shrugged. "Sort of. I've been busy. Got through the first couple of chapters, but with the Doc- John constantly acting up. It's hard to be a persistent reader."

"It's tough for the victim, but it is always tougher for the families," Dr. Roberts stated wisely. "They're dealing with a completely different person from the one they originally knew."

"People change," Donna muttered.

"That they do," Dr. Roberts agreed. "But it's our job as friends and family to remind them that they are still loved and needed. No matter what the circumstances are. We want to eliminate any possibilities of suicidal tendencies." Dr. Roberts glanced down at the scribbled writing once more. "In our last meeting, you said his family had died and you and your family is all he has." Donna nodded her head. Dr. Roberts slid his glasses off. "May I ask how? It's important for me to get a full evaluation of Mr. Smith." Donna shook her head, scratching the back of her neck. She puffed out a heavy sigh.

"Don't know. He doesn't like talking about his past, even with me. Martha got a bit out of him, but she even said it was vague. He's not one to talk. It's like pulling teeth with that man - teeth that are made out of adamantium!" Dr. Roberts chuckled.

"I guess he's stubborn then."

"You have no idea."

"Well, for a man to survive such a traumatic event and come out on top takes quite a bit of will." His warm dark eyes caught her own sky blues.

"He's always been that way. Brush things off as nothing to worry about, even if it mentally or physically hurts him. He doesn't like appearing weak or vulnerable," Donna replied. "He's always been that way, but I'm afraid he's grown more distant."

"Signs of a troubled past," Dr. Roberts muttered. "You also mentioned that he had abandonment issues?"

"Yes, I did. He doesn't like being left alone. He _hates_ being alone and now it is worse."

Dr. Roberts leaned back and tapped his glasses upon his knee. "From what you have told me about your friend, I believe I can theorize some of the issues he suffers from. But seeing as I have not met him face to face, they are only theories from a second hand source."

Dr. Roberts stood to his feet and stepped over to the large window, overlooking the bustling city below. His eyes sadly watched each individual as they passed by the building. His stance was that of a tired man, who had fought many battles. A man that had seen too much and who's family was now fractured, because of unfortunate events. He understood Donna's will and strength to keep fighting, even when the odds seemed against him. He held his shoulders high. He was not done fighting yet and he was going to help others conquer their struggles as well.

Donna stood and stretched her stiff limbs, after having been seated stiffly, for far too long.

"Ms. Noble." She turned towards Dr. Roberts, who still faced the large window.

"Yes, Dr. Roberts?"

He faced Donna. "I would like to meet your young man. Talk with him."

"I don't know if I can get John here though. He doesn't like leaving the house."

"Then I'll go there. Maybe in a couple days?"

Donna arched her brow in contemplation. She nodded. "Yes, that will work. He may hate me for it, but he tends to not enjoy talking to people about his personal life."

"Then we won't talk about his personal life," Dr. Roberts concluded. "I don't want to force him into a conversation he doesn't feel comfortable with." Donna smiled.

"Thank you Dr. Roberts," Donna replied and added. "For everything."

"You're a wonderful woman, Ms. Noble," Roberts stated, watching her sincerely. "The few times I have spoken with you has shown me what a brave and compassionate person you are." Donna blushed. Roberts turned back towards the window. "It's not every day that I find someone fully supporting their broken friend. Many times, they give up and leave their friend in the care of somebody else."

"I could never abandon skinny boy," Donna muttered honestly.

"That's why you are one of a kind, Ms. Noble. There's a reason he trusts you. He knows you won't let him down." Donna bowed her head.

"I try not to," she whispered.

"I will see you again in a couple of days," Dr. Roberts stated abruptly.

Courteously, they shook hands and stated their goodbyes. Donna turned out of the office and walked down the hall. Making her way out to the parking lot where her blue car was parked.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. I have nothing else to say because I don't want to spoil the plot. So, yeah hope you review!**

**Note: Adamantium is an indestructible metal from the Marvel universe. Wolverine has it covering all of his bones. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for reviews and reading my story. I know it has been a while, but I have definitly not forgotten about this story, I've just been terribly busy with life. I'm hoping with christmas break approaching that I'll be able to get more chapters out. I want to thank thisdayandage for proofreading my chapter. So, thank you very much. Well...Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy. :)**

Chapter 15

In front of Donna's house, a cab squealed to a stop. Martha hopped out and quickly paid the cab-driver, before turning on her heals. While marching towards the front door, she realized she was gnawing on her bottom lip. She was not pleased with the outcome of her short meeting with Colonel Mace. Hoping for a bit of sympathy from her commanding officer had been in vain. He wanted the Doctor's assistance. Trying to discourage his decision would only lead into a headache and unnecessary probation. Colonel Mace was not usually an unreasonable man. Recent pressures of the new case and the lack of any trails or evidence found had made him become short, bitter and unwilling to listen to UNIT's scientists and their advice. This led him to demanding for the Doctor's professional assistance. If only he knew what sort of condition the Doctor was in or had seen it with his own two eyes, he may have been more understanding to Martha's skilled medical observations and decided to leave the Doctor be for the time being. But that hypothesis seemed to only work if UNIT was not dealing with a severe and deadly crisis. And for that, Martha felt guilty. She was dragging her friend into a mess he should not be forced to deal with at the moment. He had suffered enough and he did not need the responsibility of Earth weighing down on him, but UNIT was at a loss and they desperately needed outside assistance. She just hoped this request would not upset the delicate and careful work Donna and her family had been performing in attempt to put the pieces of a broken man back together.

After tapping a quick rhythm against her thigh, she rapidly knocked on the Nobles' front door. It was a few seconds, before she heard the heavy clomps of someone approaching. Her eyes gazed out towards the street where a woman walked by, feet dragging along the sidewalk and her head tilted to the side. Martha watched her for a bit, curiously, before her eyes settled back onto the door. The door flew open and Sylvia stood there, hands on her hips and a brow arched in a curious curve, her lips puckered slightly with irritation at being disrupted from god knows what. Her pink blouse had a couple buttons undone near the collar and sleeves rolled up to her elbow. Her white pants were neat and orderly except for the greenish stain near her knees.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Sylvia scolded sharply. "After running off without so much as a goodbye, I'd of thought you wouldn't have shown your face again." Martha held back an eye roll, instigated by the reprimanding tone. Instead, she put on a charming smile.

"Yes, I apologize about that," Martha replied. "I had a call from work. An urgent call and they needed me down there as soon as possible. I hope you had a wonderful breakfast?"

Sylvia scowled, puffing out an irritable breath of air and folded her arms. "Yes, we did. But the Doctor was a bit upset you weren't there," she snidely remarked, pointing blame at her early departure. "He had something to tell you and when you ran out the door, he got a bit sulky. Not as lovely a morning as I hoped, thanks to you."

"Is Donna here by any chance," Martha questioned, trying to change the subject. The conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn and Martha desperately wanted to avoid any arguments, with the sardonic and tetchy Noble woman.

"No, she went off to visit that psychiatrist, Dr. whats-his-face."

"Roberts?"

Sylvia sharply angled her head. Her chin up high and eyes looking down her nose at the much younger doctor. "Yep, him." She examined Martha closely, eyes popping up and down, as if considering whether Martha should be considered a threat or not. Martha waited patiently for Mrs. Noble's invitation. This sudden distrust was unnerving, but then again Sylvia was caring for an alien with so much sorrow, upon his skinny shoulders. She felt a sense of pity for the Noble family, knowing their world must be turned upside down. She caught the sigh, as Sylvia Noble's shoulders slumped. The bags under her eyes darkened, exposing how exhausted the older woman was. Her frame showed a sense of defeat and she waved Martha through the door, stepping aside. "Fine, go on in. Donna will be back shortly. She left a couple hours ago and I need someone to watch the Doctor. I can't do everything at once."

Martha stepped inside the charmingly decorated house. Her eyes straying as she noticed the potted plant, next to the couch and a small TV set against the wall, with what looked like a DVD and VCR player side by side. Open DVD cases were spread across the floor and books were piled high on the coffee table, with bolts and knobs from seemingly innocent projects covering the side-table and coffee-table as well. The room had a very Doctor-ish cluttered feel to it. Something she had not noticed yesterday. Behind her, the door slammed shut. Instinctually, Martha turned, catching Mrs. Noble locking and bolting the door, before flicking her blonde hair out of her face and turning to face the young physician. Her appearance was disheveled and Martha noticed the set of gardening gloves on the side-table. She put two and two together and immediately knew what Mrs. Noble was up to, before she had arrived. She arched a carefully shaped brow. "Were you gardening, Mrs. Noble?"

Her lips furrowed, as she stomped pass Martha and into the kitchen. Martha followed ensue, again, surprised by the woman's rude and abrupt behavior. Repeatedly, she had to keep reminding herself that Sylvia Noble had a good heart. She just didn't know how to express it. Martha perched herself next to the counter, as Sylvia's head visited the fridge. Hands rummaged through the tiny refrigerator, before pulling out a pitcher of lemonade, which she placed the pitcher on the white counter top. "Yes. Someone needs to take care of those begonias out there. They'll get droopy." Searching the cabinets for glasses, she found none. With a tap of her lip, she went to the dishwasher. Pulling out two glasses, she rinsed them under soapy water, before drying them quickly. A thoughtful look graced her face as she examined the little pink flower growing in a pot, next to the window. She scowled. "Besides, what will my friends think! I have to make sure the garden is at least to their standard. Have you seen Rita's garden, Martha?!"

Martha shook her head. "No, I don't believe I have."

"Well, it's gorgeous. Roses of the thousands - every different shade! And lavender along the windowsill.." The glasses clinked against the counter, and a couple of ice cubes were dumped into each glass. "She makes my garden look like a dump." Sylvia's eyes darkened a gloomy, morose color. "I can never live up to their standards." She poured lemonade, handing a glass to Martha.

"What makes you say that?" Martha asked, taking a careful sip.

"I don't have the money," Sylvia replied, with a shrug. "Geoffrey, my late husband, wasn't the wealthiest man and when Donna came along all our money and care went into her. I've just never been that impressive in the eyes of my friends."

"They don't sound like very good friends," Martha commented. With sad eyes, she glanced at the sour woman, understanding the position she was coming from - feeling second best.

"They're fine," Sylvia shrugged. "I just sometimes envy them. They have the looks, the money, the married daughters, and multiple grandchildren. What do I have? A broken man, a daughter, who doesn't give me the time of day, and a father, who's dealing with heart problems. I've got nothing to impress them with."

"But, you do have a family that cares about you," Martha replied encouragingly, placing her cup on the counter. "Think about it. Donna chose to come back home."

Sylvia snorted with a scoff. "That's because she had nowhere else to go."

"She could have stayed with the Doctor - gone somewhere else, but instead she chose to come home."

Sylvia bit her lip. The workings of her brain, playing around with the considered thought, Martha had pointed out, but shook her head in denial. "But.. the girls they've got-"

"Nothing on you. You may not be rich in materialistic things, but you do have a family that appreciates you. Even the Doctor has wheedled his way into your heart." Sylvia opened her mouth to protest, but Martha held up a hand, halting the retort. "I know. I've seen it. I've seen the worry you've expressed for him. Don't let your friends bother you or make you feel inferior. I understand because I have felt that way before and then I realized how important my family was. Traveling with the Doctor showed me that and I could never replace them. Just think about what you do have, not what you don't."

Sylvia's mouth curved to reply, but the click of the door opening halted her response. The jingle of keys being place on a side table reverberated into the small kitchen and the floor creaked, as someone approached the two occupants of the kitchen. A flash of red hair announced who the new arrival was.

"Speak of the devil," Sylvia exclaimed, placing exasperated hands on her hips. "About time you've shown up, Madame. Where have you been?"

Donna rolled her eyes with similar exasperation. "Mum, I told you earlier, I was visiting Dr. Roberts."

"You should have been back ages ago. Instead, I've had to deal with the Doctor sulking about the house, alone."

"We had a nice chat," Donna bit back sharply. "Nice bloke and all." Martha sipped her lemonade, before placing the cup into the sink. Already she could sense the awkward tension rising in the air, similar to her own family's petty arguments. The arguments that Martha preferred to avoid at all costs. Unlike her, it seemed Donna and Sylvia enjoyed these quick jabs and verbal sparring that would only move in circles. Mentally, she did not understand it, but apparently bitterness and disappointment fueled these ugly arguments and only left people hurt. At least that was what she had learned, thanks to her parents' angry divorce. Luckily, now, after the valiant crisis, they were slowly attempting to mend their shattered relationship. At the moment, she was stuck in the crossfire and found she needed to quickly disarm the possible battle that would surely ensue. With both Donna and Sylvia's tempers short, mixed with exhaustion and frustration, the possible argument would not end pretty.

"Hi, Donna," she intruded charmingly, quickly disarming the ugly argument that would have occurred. "Fancy seeing you again."

Donna turned her gaze to Martha, smiling at the petite woman. Immediately, the fire seemed to be stamped out, as her gaze reverted from her Mother's. "When did you arrive?"

"Ten - fifteen minutes ago. Was just having a nice chat with your mother."

"Really," Donna replied, sarcastically, not quite out of malice, but unconsciously preparing to throw in the last jab. "Didn't know that was possible." Immediately, she blanched, realizing she spoke before processing her words. Her Mother glared, slamming her own glass into the sink and exited through the arched doorway, heading towards the garden in the backyard. "I'm going to finish my gardening now," acid dripped from every word. "Nice speaking with you Martha."

A noticeable flash of guilt sparked in Donna's eyes. But out of pride, she did not apologize. Instead, stood her ground and crossed her arms. It was a learned habit that Donna picked up through childhood. Whenever her mother conversed with her, it would always end in an argument, so might as well be prepared and have plenty of ammo. For too long, she had lived under her mother's harsh-tongue. Now she possessed it herself, as well as jumping to illogical conclusions, with little solid evidence. Glaring at her friend's rudeness, Martha turned towards Sylvia's exit. The least she could do was give some helpful warnings to the older Noble woman, but knowing full well her words would not be noted. "Mrs. Noble, I don't think it's wise to garden just now," she advised. "It's not safe." Her words were ignored, just as expected. Sighing, Martha decided there was no harm at the moment and simply crossed her arms, glaring at Donna disapprovingly.

"What was that?" she asked.

Donna brushed her hair back. "Me speaking before thinking - I do that sometimes," Donna stated, nonchalant. It surprised Martha to no end at how sour the mother and daughter relationship was. It reminded her too much of her own family in some ways.

"Well, it's one of the reasons why you and your mother don't get along very well."

"I know."

"Maybe try holding your tongue next time."

"You don't need to reprimand me. I know what I said was wrong," Donna shot back, with irritation.

"Sorry," Martha apologized. "I have a tendency to do that." Donna bobbed her head, glaring at the counter, signaling the end to the conversation. Martha knew it was time to take a step back and allow Donna some breathing space. If she brought back the topic, she knew it would only frustrate Donna and it was hardly appropriate for the current situation. Decidingly, she would talk to Donna later about familial relationships. Considering she held similar ones as well, she would have no issues relating to some of Donna's own frustrations. It was apparent Donna would need to cool down, before intruding into that topic. A conversation, she as well wanted to discuss with her new friend. With Donna, she felt she had a unique comradeship. It was nice to have someone who shared common interest.

"Why don't you think it's wise for my mother to garden?" Donna asked, abruptly changing the subject. It seemed her comment had concerned Donna. She always forgot how observant the red-head could be and how she could detect issues based on the tones people held in their voices. As a people's person, Donna knew when there was something wrong and information was being held from her. It was probably why she and the Doctor got along so well. They were both very aware of the environment around them and Donna also never took any of his nonsense that many other previous companions seemed to accept.

"Ah, straight to the point, I see," Martha replied. "- Part of the reason why I'm back. I need to speak to the Doctor."

"Why?"

"Because UNIT needs his help and my commanding officer ordered me to get it."

"What's going on? You know as well as I do that the Doctor isn't well enough to deal with Earth's issues."

"I know, but this is growing into a larger issue then we like to deal with. People have been dying and it has something to do with the earthquakes."

"Earthquakes?"

"Yes, preceding the quakes, there has been a few unusual deaths - maybe even more." Martha paused at the thought. Already people were dying, if more were dead and UNIT had not located them, it could be bad. No, it was bad because an uncontrolled alien entity was not in UNIT custody. It was out in the general public and who knows what happens to the deceased and what would happen to a random citizen, who stumbled upon them. "There may be bodies we have not found yet. From personal expertise and the strange phenomenon that I have bared witness to, I have come up with a theory that I think is a very real possibility. I think that quite possibly foliage is killing people." Donna proceeded to give her a skeptical look, but couldn't help but agree with Martha. Her theory sounded absolutely preposterous, but then again she did travel with the Doctor for some time and found the unexplainable tend to make more sense than the explainable.

"Plants are murdering people?" Donna checked, before sighing in exasperation. "Well, no surprise there. Even when he's not looking for trouble, trouble finds him." Martha nodded her head, with a soft, humorous smile at the comment that described their friend completely.

"I suggested to UNIT that we combine our intelligence with Torchwood, but they refused."

"Well, bringing in Jack and his team might be a wise idea," Donna agreed.

"That's what I said. I've called up Jack in the past and I know that he's keeping tabs on the earthquakes and where they hit the most. I haven't asked if he found any dead yet, but I know that Cardiff has been struck with a few earthquakes. Combining our knowledge would be the best plan of action.. But.."

"They want the Doctor."

"Precisely."

"And the Doctor's not yet ready to deal with a planetary crisis."

"I've told them that. They don't care."

Donna crossed her arms, drumming her fingers on her biceps. "By any chance is your commanding Officer, a man named Colonel Mace?"

"You guessed right."

Donna sighed. "I knew I didn't like the guy when he forgot to salute me - had to bloody tell him to."

Martha snorted. "Yeah, I was there. We should probably talk to the Doctor." Again, the uneasy betrayal and guilt ate away at Martha's heart. She hated doing this, but knew the Doctor was their only option to end this terrible case, once and for all.

"Should we tell him right away?"

"No, I think we should play it safe and convince him to come out first. I don't want to spook him all of a sudden."

"So, your suggestion is to make him feel safe and then drop the bomb on him? Martha, I don't think that's such a good idea. He's spooked enough and suffering from trust issues. This will only hurt his trust with us even more."

"Maybe take him somewhere safe, without a lot of movement or noise?"

"So, a park?"

"I guess."

"With killer plants on the loose, how is that a good idea?"

"Donna...What do you suggest? A mall? Because I know that will overwhelm him. He doesn't even like malls. Even before his inevitable kidnapping."

"Fine, fine.. I guess a park will do. But if he gets attack by killer plants.."

"He won't. Trust me." Martha frowned, crossing her arms and looking out the kitchen window that faced the small house next door. Expressing no desire for what seemed the Doctor's inevitably forced assistance, she would have to stall as long as she could. First, she would help him, by getting him used to the outdoors again. Possibly, she could take him on walks, maybe shopping when he felt comfortable among people again. The issue did not need to be dealt with right away, right? It was not the case and she knew it. Superstitious bad luck already hung over the Doctor's shoulders and she knew, no matter how much she tried to stall, the universe would somehow thrust this dangerous problem on him, against his will. Facing Donna once more, Martha gave an easy smile, trying to mask her concern. "Besides, we won't bring it up with him for a while. Give him some time to get use to the outdoors once more."

Donna gave her a doubtful look, before shrugging it off. However, Martha caught what Donna muttered under her breath. Something along the lines of 'bad idea' and Martha could not help, but slightly agree, though her stubbornness fueled her. Both ladies left the kitchen and half-heartedly bounded up the flight of stairs towards the little room that the Doctor had claimed his.

* * *

He was sitting next to the window. The squeak of the rocker echoed, as it moved to and fro. Chin rested on his arm, he gazed out at the open sky, almost longingly, but fear held him back. He missed the fresh air and open sky and the sound of birds and activity out on the suburban streets. But that dark terror and the nightmares of being shot down on the street and pulled away into a dark van was well implanted in his mind. He found it safer to be inside, because the outside world meant danger. And danger meant captivity and pain and men with guns and needles. Yes, he missed the fresh air, the trees, and fragrant smells of flowers. Yes, he missed traveling through space and feeling that exhilarating freedom of being Lord of all Time and Space. And yes, he missed rescuing civilizations and making new friends. But he would happily give that all up to ensure he would never be held in a lab again.

Through that window, he scrutinized everyone that walked pass. He could not be sure. Anyone of these people could be a danger to him and Donna. They could be informers.. or soldiers.. people, who did not have good intentions, who wanted to lock him away and turn him into a killer. The Doctor leaned forward, eyes slit in observation. Laughter resonated on the streets and the snort of an engine announced the return of a neighbour's car. The car was a black suburban. Why the neighbours had a black suburban, he didn't know? But immediately, it put him on alert, reminding him of the black van that brought him to hell.

His eyes latched on to the glassy black coating, as it rolled to a halt and a man hopped out. He opened another door and a small child slid out of her car seat, before racing to the front door. When the man slammed the door shut, the Doctor clutched his head, brown eyes clenched shut, as if to ward off the offensive noise. Slipping from his chair, he knelt on the ground. He hated vans. Especially black ones. He realised his trust in the human race wavering even more. How could he trust a race, when that said race embellished in his suffering? How could he ever be able to save Earth again, when he was reminded of those few torturous months? How could he ever be able to see the human race as it once was, a brilliant, resourceful race that would one day adventure among the stars. Because now, all he could see was the dark blackness of their hearts. That sinister evil that made humans do the unthinkable. Yes, many of his friends were from Earth, but they scared him too. He knew Donna and Martha would never hurt him, yet he felt he was only in their protection to meet another greater goal they held. That is what the humans are like. Always having a greater goal and disregarding the pain they caused to others.

Torchwood was a grand example of that. 'If it's alien, it's ours,' their motto they have have carried since Queen Victoria's time. One that sets forth a conquest for power, death left in its wake. How many aliens have they killed to collect all the alien artifacts they have? How many enslaved, experimented on, locked away all because they were born on a different planet, just like him. The human race only wanted power and he knew now that if he were to announce himself an alien, the majority of the population would fear him, because he was different. They would not hesitate to lock him away or stone him to death. That is how the human race works. If someone is different, they have to be a threat. It hurt.

Hesitantly, the Doctor stood to his feet and leant his head against the wall. His eyes shifted back to the activity outside, to follow a young boy with a football. The boy bounced it on his knees, before kicking it towards his little brother. A sad smile twitched against his lips, as he placed a cool hand against the glass. At that moment, the boy turned, causing the smile to drop, as his eyes capturing the Doctor's. The ball rolled along the asphalt ground, as his younger brother shouted at him to kick it back. The boy smiled up at the Doctor and gave a small wave, and from his perch the Doctor waved back, before settling back into the chair. The boy went back to his game.

Head on his forearm, the Doctor continued to watch the world outside his room. The human race cannot be all bad though. Donna was there for him, promised to stand by his side and be whoever he needed her to be. She had rescued him, alongside Jack and his team. She had never forgotten him and fought to the end to save him. Even now, she was still fighting to rehabilitate him back into the universe, despite that she too was suffering. Wilf had sat by his side at night, while he feared the monsters in the dark. The elderly man had provided a fatherly figure to the lost Time Lord, engaging him in conversations and comforting him when he felt too weak. Even Sylvia, a bitter, nagging woman who had never cared for his presence, wanted him to get better. And the Doctor was sure it was not for the sake of kicking him out. She cared in her own way. The Doctor knew there was more to Sylvia Noble than what met the eye. She was sardonic, tetchy, and shallow but there was a good heart in her. She was merely afraid to expose it. And the Doctor wondered how much of it was influenced by the people around her. He appreciated all three of these people. These humans had allowed him into their heart and home.

No, the human race could not be all bad, because there was still good people in the world. People, who would accept a broken man into their lives and would provide him with shelter, food, and clean clothes. They would lay awake at night and comfort him in his darkest hours or give him the space he needed to heal. No, humans were not all bad - some were just crueler than others. Because he knew, even if these three doused him with love, that love would one day hurt and dig into his hearts like a cruel knife. Human lifespans were like mayflies compared to a Time Lord's. They withered and died and the Doctor would live on, alone. And that was the cruelest event that could happen to this centuries old Time Lord. That Donna, Wilf, Martha, even Sylvia would leave him soon enough, unwillingly. His eyes closed, the stresses of the world pressing down on his sore and tired body. All he needed to do was rest his eyes for a few moments, before continuing his watch.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Sorry for the late update, I've been really, really busy. Too much has been going on, with preparing for Christmas, writing essays, and test one after the other. So, hopefully with winter break approaching. I'll be writing a lot more. Thank you all for reading. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hope you will enjoy chapter 16. I want to thank thisdayandage for editing my stuff. So, thank you very much! The action and climax of the story will probably start to climb by chapter 18. I'm glad you're enjoying my story. :)**

Chapter 16

Footsteps approached his room - two sets. One heavier, the other lighter, almost silent. Alerted, his eyes popped open. Lifting his head up, he cracked his neck, before leaning forward to rest his chin on his knuckles, elbows propped on his thighs. A smothered yawn escaped from his mouth and his eyes focused on the tree outside his window. Two birds twittered and flapped at each other, as they hopped from tree branch to branch. Their beady black eyes darted about, searching for their next meal.

The patter of feet grew closer and the Doctor's shoulders tensed. Peering to the side, his muscles clenched. Already, plans of escape raced through his alert mind. He had already established several attainable exits, in case the situation called for it. There was the window and earlier he had discovered that the ceiling of his wardrobe held a secret entrance to the attic, which would also be useful. In that case, he could climb through the tiny door and end up in the attic. Then he could make his way to the roof and the nearest tree. But, then again, he needed to protect the Nobles, so forcing his way through two armed men might work as well. He could avoid gunshots and make a quick and steady chop to the nerve clusters near the shoulder blade, which all humans had. A direct blow to that specific nerve cluster normally caused a person to black out.

Although, the intruders might not be human, they could be something else - a Slitheen, or a Zygon, or some marshland creature that only came out every full moon. Except, a marshland monster's footsteps were a bit more sluggish and left a trail of slime. Besides, it was the afternoon and marshland monsters only made an appearance during the night - just like vampires! The Doctor crossed his eyes and huffed. He was getting off track, and needed to focus on the present situation. Calming his racing hearts, he slowly tuned into the taps of feet. The footsteps held a familiar ring, a welcoming ring that did not signify immediate danger. Pat...pat...pat...brown eyes shot open and a relieved puff of air passed his lips. Leaning against his rocker, it swung back with a creak. His hand strayed to his untamed hair, gliding through the brown locks. He was safe, he reminded himself. He was far away from that corrupt, satanic place - very far away. No one was going to attack him, or capture him. He was safe. He was with the Nobles. The Nobles meant safety. He repeated this mantra in his head over and over again, shaking his head side to side and silently laughing at his absurd thoughts. He was safe. He knew that. He even recognized those footsteps, as he had grown accustomed to them. They were Donna's and what sounded like Martha's lighter steps.

Donna's heavier falls of feet had grown to be a comfort and he always knew when she was coming. It also helped that when she drew closer, a light prickle of safety touched his mind. It was somewhat telepathic, he assumed. It must have developed through their building relationship, or his hope that she would rescue him, during his darkest and most feared hours. He was not sure. All he knew was that whenever Donna Noble was close by, his mind would light up with warmth and security. A soft knock pulled him from his wayward thoughts and his eyes shot over to the slowly opening door.

"Spaceman," Donna's voice lightly called. "Can we come in?" The Doctor did not turn his head. Chewing on his lip, he gave a calm wave. The door creaked and two pairs of footsteps approached his chair. The honeysuckle scent of Martha wafted his nose and he inwardly smiled at the old familiarity of his past companion. But, his pleasure fell soon enough and he knew he needed to address her in one manner or another.

"Surprised you came back," He acknowledged Martha's presence. "With the way you ran out the door, I though the house was going to explode," throwing in the last part to lighten the mood in an attempt to create a pretense of indifference. Feeling Martha's eyes drilling into the back of his head, he knew she was studying his behavior. Martha was the type, who always wanted to know what was going on and gain an idea on his or anybody's feelings and emotions. Her desire to understand the deeper meaning of things was both a strength, as well as a downfall. Sometimes, she pushed too hard, while searching for answers, causing more damaged than good. She knew and he knew she knew it as well. It was her stubborn physician side and yet he would not have her any other way. A small smile crept across his face. He could sense her awe and curiosity.

"How do you always know?" Martha asked, crinkling her brow curiously. "It's kind of creepy."

"Intuition," he replied, blasé. "- Comes with the territories of being a Time Lord. Now, Dr. Martha Jones," he turned in his seat to face his former companion. "What brings you back?"

"I wanted to check up on you," Martha answered, half truthfully. "I didn't have time this morning, to talk to you. Mrs. Noble said you had something to tell me?"

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing important. Sylvia has a way of making little things into bigger problems. I just wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday."

Martha nodded her head. "That's alright. I understand. Are you..."

"I'm fine," the Doctor replied, quickly. "Always fine." He turned back to the window, leaning. Donna and Martha both approached him. One on his left, the other on his right. They followed his line of sight, eyes falling on the two, little birds.

"You miss it, don't you," Martha stated.

"What?" the Doctor whispered, knowing full well what she meant.

"The freedom to fly away and travel?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "Why would I need that, when I have all this?" He gestured around his room, at the bed, the dresser, the closet, and the few pictures that decorated his room. "I don't need the outside."

"But you're not happy," Martha observed, sadly.

"At least I know I'm safe," the Doctor shot back. A pout formed on his lips, as he crossed his arms.

Martha stood quietly, unable to respond. Heavy guilt tightened in her heart, but knew that she could not let her personal feelings get in the way. The world needed to be saved and apparently the human race was incapable of saving themselves. Donna stood across from her and shook her red hair. Her blue eyes traveled down to the Doctor's, as he nervously picked at his nails. Martha kneeled down next to him and placed a soft hand on his already tense ones. Studying his bare feet, she quirked a brow. She did not understand the bare feet issue and Donna gladly told Martha some of Dr. Roberts theories to the puzzle. But Martha felt it might be a bit more problematic than that. She was not sure, but with the Doctor's lack of suit and shoes, if it was more of a refusal to continue with his way of life. The Doctor that sat in front of her wore a t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, nothing more.

He looked small - tiny even. No longer did he hold the appearance of the bigger-than-life hero. The clothes seemed to swallow his skinny frame whole. Sometimes, she forgot he was her Doctor, even though he had the same brown hair, his eyes were sunken and it reminded her of documented pictures she saw, as a student, during her war unit in history. Every prisoner of war or concentration camp victim had the same eyes. Those eyes held a haunting, brokenness and deep loneliness. No one could possibly comprehend such a look, unless they had been through similar. It scared her. Though his appearance usually contradicted his actual age, at that moment she could see just how old the Doctor truly was. He had seen too much and his inevitable kidnapping only made the look in his eyes worse. Her eyes drifted down back to his shoeless feet.

"You're not wearing shoes," Martha stated out loud, a light blush tinting her cheeks. His toes curled at the statement, as if trying to hide. He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing as he suppressed his possible short remark. He took a steady breath, forming his next reply.

"What's the use of shoes, when you don't leave your room?" he stated, without acknowledging her close proximity. She noticed the doors closing behind his eyes. He was closing their window of opportunity to speak with him. Shutting himself inside, he was pulling away from reality, and moving into the safety of his own mind. He had done this multiple times with her and she knew, even with past companions, he had done it before. When he was not comfortable with where a conversation headed, he would close himself off and bury away into his mind. He placed an iron mask over his face, hiding behind it, as if it secured his being. Sometimes he would even take on a different personality, usually manic, or cold. She sensed Donna's silent fuming, knowing she was just as upset about him shutting down and running like usual. Some things never change.

"Spaceman," Donna butted in. "We need to talk."

"Aren't we already," he sardonically said. A flash of annoyance crossed his brown eyes. "And so far I haven't found anything we have said too important. Just a bunch of nonsense prattle." Martha noted his anger and annoyance. She knew his sarcastic rude retort was caused by their continuous picking and search for answers. She realised that he wanted to crawl away, hide and pretend everything was fine. But that was not the case. And she understood that she and Donna could not let him get away this time. He needed to talk. Get those horrible and condemning feelings off his chest. He needed to move forward, just a step, or he would never heal. Whether or not they wre pushing him too hard, or just enough, she did not know. However, from her knowledge she recollected that many trauma victims would have a similar reaction. Though, some more extreme than others. The Doctor was unpredictable, sometimes he agreed, sometimes he spat out his anger and frustration, or hid behind the oncoming storm, but many times he clamped up, tighter than a clam. He would not budge, he could not. It was a defense mechanism, many times affective, sometimes not.

"Oi, mind your manners skinny-boy." Hands landing on hips, a similar annoyed flash crossed Donna's own blue orbs. His mouth clamped shut and Donna relaxed her arms. "As I said, we need to talk. You've been cooped up inside for far too long. I think it's time we went out for a walk. You're getting paler then a ghost. And I thought you were pale before."

The Doctor's eyes landed on the street and a strained gulp slid down his throat. "You mean out there?"

"Of course I mean out there, Dumbo," Donna shrilled. "Where else do you think I meant, the bathroom?"

"But Donna, it's not safe." The Doctor's voice reached an octave higher. "They'll find us and they might hurt you." He lowered his eyes and with a small voice barely considered a whisper, he added, "I don't want you hurt."

Donna's eyes softened. He was concerned for her safety and she was exploiting him to the outside world. Guilt darkened her thoughts. What type of friend was she? What type of friend was Martha? The Doctor was definitely not ready for this vast universe. It was too soon, but Donna knew that could not remain the case. Sooner or later, he needed to leave the house. He needed to conquer his fear. When he finally stepped out those wooden doors and into the bright sunlight of the afternoon, he would not be harmed. The killer foliage could wait and besides, Martha only said it happened in early morning. It was mid-afternoon. Today was the day, the Doctor needed to leave the house. Placing a loving hand on his shoulder, she felt it as he unconsciously leaned into her touch. Sometimes tough love was the best form of action.

"Spaceman, I understand," Donna began. "The outside world is scary, especially after what we have been through. It takes a lot of courage, even for me, to step outside those doors. Sometimes I don't want to, but I know I have too. I'm sometimes scared out of my wits when I walk down the street, but I know I am protected and that you and Gramps and even Mum will take care of me." Heaving a sigh, she continued. "I understand, I suffer the same nightmares you suffer from and I have similar, terrifying visions plague me. I see you scared and it makes me scared. But bravery is not stepping out those doors unafraid, but stepping out those doors afraid and knowing you can make it, ready to face down the demons. Take a deep breath and a leap of faith. I know you can do it. I have seen you face down terrifyingly, deadly monsters. And now I think it's time to face down one of your own."

The Doctor wrapped his arms around his abdomen and pulled his legs up. He contemplated Donna's words and he knew she was right. If Donna could do it, so could he. It was just discovering that spark of courage that was difficult.

"If you like," a soft, loving voice stated. He turned to face Martha, who wore a kind smile on her face. "I can give you a disguise - a hat, or something, so you can feel safe amongst people."

Chewing on his lips, The Doctor's shoulders shook with fear of the unknown. Eyes drifting over to the window, he focused on the spot spot where the two boys once played, to where the black suburban was parked, where the little girl hopped out. His gaze paused on the twittering birds that flapped freely through the breeze, hopping from tree to tree. Oh, how he wish he were those birds. But he was caged and always had been. Closing his eyes, he decided, with whispered breath that, for once, he was going to be brave. "Are you going to stay with me?"

"Of course, skinny boy!" Donna exclaimed, relief settling her sick stomach, which had taken a nasty turn, since this conversation had begun. In fact, probably a bit before that even. She was hesitant to force him into something, he was not comfortable with. Fear that she would not give him a choice had almost stopped her, but she held onto hope that she had in fact provided him with one. The last thing she wanted was for the Doctor to be feeling guilty, like he had to appease her. Swallowing her self-doubt, Donna forced an encouraging smile back on her face. "I wouldn't dare leave your side. You'll be with both me and Martha the whole time and we're going to stick close to home."

"Where will we go?" he ventured, right brow rising inquisitively. Slowly, he was climbing out of his shell. With the thought of going somewhere new, that old spark of curiosity was returning. Although his body may have been still tense with hesitation, she knew he would never, or at least right now, be fully willing to leave. Fear would still be heavily hanging over those skinny shoulders.

"Martha was thinking a park. Maybe we can get ice-cream and stroll down the pathway. Feed ducks." The Doctor shyly smiled. He liked ducks. Before the whole underground incident, him and Donna would sometimes stroll over to the nearest duck pond and feed the ducks there. Sometimes they were alien ducks, like the ducks on Aricus 5 that had hair instead of feathers and circular shaped feet - very different from Earth's feathered friends.

"There won't be a lot of people, Doctor," Martha added. His head swiveled to face Martha, eyes boldly meeting her own. "You have nothing to fear and when you grow tired, we can head home. How does that sound?"

Silence followed. No words were spoken for a good few minutes, only the ticking of a mind fumbling with its options. Donna squirmed, uncomfortable under the awkward silence that had fallen. Martha stared intently waiting for the Doctor's answers. Her ambition was not purely for her job. Now she just wanted him outside in the open, feeling the freedom of air tickling his ears and the old content smile gracing his lips. She could not handle seeing him so cramped up, in such a tiny space. He barely moved anymore and that was unhealthy for the normally active Time Lord.

"I will have a disguise?" The Doctor's probing question broke the silence and Martha smiled. She took the question as an agreement to the idea. She knew deep down, he wanted out, he was just held back by the fear that was so prominent at the moment.

"Yes, of course. Whatever makes you feel safe."

"And you won't leave me?"

"Of course not, like Donna said, I'll be by your side at all times. Plus, if it makes you feel better I can arm myself."

"No guns."

"I see that policy is still in the rule book," Martha replied cheekily, initiating a settled grin from the Doctor. Yet, his smile fell, and a somber look took its place, as he gazed at Martha, dead in the eyes, with knuckles, white from clamping his hands tightly together. He looked outside once more, expression flashing, with conflicting feelings, before his composure dropped and he nodded his head.

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll go." His shoulders were still tense with uncertainty and his hands visibly shook, but his eyes were gleaming with bravery. He was afraid, but he knew he accepted his need to conquer his fears, one step at a time.

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**Thanks for reading. This Chapter was a lot shorter than usual chapters, but it was setting up for the next chapter to come. Hope you enjoyed! Please review! I love reviews!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I want to thank thisdayandage for editing my chapter. I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this chapter and please review! I love reviews! They make me very, very happy!**

Chapter 17

The process of preparing the Doctor to venture outdoors was quite the interesting endeavor. At least, Donna thought so. After agreeing, he had sluggishly, with much assistance from his two companions, made his way to the bathroom. They had given him a fresh set of clothes, since the t-shirt and sweats he had recently been wearing were growing ripe with body odor. With no need until today, he had not changed jim-jams. Thoughts of burning the remains crossing her mind, as Donna delivered the clothes to the nearest hamper.

Martha had tried, in vain, to co-hearse the Doctor into taking a shower, but he responded with a very stubborn 'No' and a cross of his arms. Looming fear resided in his eyes, masked behind anger. Giving in, Martha handed him deodorant instead, which he took with gratitude. He brushed his teeth, before smoothing back his hair. His indecisive hair popped back up, portraying that of a cockatoo's own hairdo. When he was finished with his quick cleanup, he cautiously and stealthily made his way back to the two young women, who were waiting in the hallway. Self-consciously, he stood in front of them. Searching for a hidden enemy, his eyes darted wildly from side to side. Accepting that no imminent danger was forthcoming, his whole demeanor slumped.

With their quick and efficient work, Donna and Martha had somewhat restored the Doctor to his old look. They had convinced him to wear blue jeans for the small journey they would have outside. It had proven to be a bit of a battle. The majority of the time, he had complained about how uncomfortable jeans were. But, Donna and Martha had stood firm and did not budge, even when his protest grew louder. They were just jeans and nothing close to what he used to wear. Besides, the sweats he had been provided before were twice his size and seemed to swallow his smaller frame. The sweats and larger t-shirt had made him seem vulnerable. Martha could not handle seeing her Doctor, the once powerful Time Lord, with the appearance of a victim.

The shirt, or shirts, they had provided, was a very modern 21st century style. It was a simple white T, with a blue buttoned shirt over it. His new appearance made him look much younger. With his nervousness combined with a splash of curiosity on his freckled face, he had the appearance of a young school boy about to leave for his first day of school. Afraid, he protested against the look, worrying that he would stand out. But Donna assured him that was not the case. That he would blend in much better with this style on, than with his sweats and t-shirt. He crinkled his eyes, still unconvinced, wanting to put on something a bit more concealed. Something that he could hide away in or pull up the collar to hide his face if need be necessary. Martha sighed in exasperation, leading him back to his room. She knew she had made a promise, which she could not break. And if the Doctor felt vulnerable, it was her job to make him feel secure.

* * *

Martha and Donna stood, the Doctor in between them, facing a door that seemed much larger and more intimidating then previously. The Doctor leaned against the couch, hands obviously shaking with fear of the unknown. His brown eyes, which were the only things not concealed by the giant scarf round his neck and mouth, were wide. A large red hunter's cap sat atop his head, the side-flaps covered his ears and the brim, partially, hid his brown orbs. Donna had found the cap in her grandfather's bedroom. She had brought it to the Doctor, promising him that it would protect his identity. He had taken the cap with gratitude. A giant black coat was zipped up on his tiny frame and brown gloves protected his hands. Luckily it was chilly outside, so the strange winter look would not appear too odd. Now, the hard part that Martha dreaded the most had approached. Glancing at the Doctor, who was trying to control his shallow and panicked breaths, Martha felt that familiar twinge of guilt in her stomach and heart. Wrapping a comforting arm around the Doctor's shoulders, Donna pulled him in closely. Eyes drifting down to his bare feet, Martha stepped forward and took the Doctor's shaking hand.

"Doctor," Martha whispered, cautiously. Her voice was soft and comforting. "It's time." The Doctor froze, as eyes glazed over, staring straight at the wooden door, like a deer caught in headlights. The guilty acid climbed up her throat. Swallowing hard, she tried to remove the sour taste from her mouth. As her eyes fell back down to his two bare feet, she noticed how all ten of his toes curled. "You might want to put on some shoes, before we go out."

The Doctor's scared brown eyes turned black and he vehemently shook his head. Martha backed away. Teeth gritted, he snarled "No shoes," in disgust. Pulling away from Donna, he quickly shuffled towards the stairs. Manically, his hand raced through his hair, tousling it more than before. "No shoes," he repeated, hearts racing.

Boldly, Martha stepped forward. She reached a hand towards the panicking Time Lord. "Why?" It was a simple question - innocent in every form. It was the meaning and possibly the answer that made this supposedly straight-forward question, ugly and wicked. Because, Martha knew whatever answer she received would make her own toes curl in rage at what the human race had done to a man, who did nothing but protect them. Swallowing thickly, he turned his gaze away from the young doctor. He stared out the back sliding door where Sylvia Noble feverishly worked on her garden. A spade sat next to her and a small rake was in her hand, as she turned the soil. A frown lined her face and she glared, menacingly, at the dirt. No doubt, Donna and Sylvia had a fight, before she arrived in his room. His eyes wavered.

"I don't deserve them," He murmured. As his gaze met Martha's, a deep, chilling emptiness sat in those two brown orbs and Martha struggled to maintain eye contact with such oppressing sadness.

"Why don't you?" she questioned. She wanted answers and she knew he would not speak again about the topic at hand. As his eyes bore into her own, she could hear time roar to life and the ever-changing timelines that he witnessed every moment of his existence. She did not notice when Donna had stepped closer and taken the Doctor's hands into her own. The deep sympathy and understanding was far more than any person, on Earth, should possess. Yet, for some reason Donna seemed to understand the Time Lord. Maybe she could relate to him somehow, having leaded a similar life. Both seemed alone in the world, in their own way, at least. They had both been through a similar traumatic event.

"I understand," Donna whispered into his ear. "I really do." The amount of sympathy, the compassion in her voice, had broken through the Doctor's dark reverie and he graced both her and Donna with a cautious, yet reassuring grin.

"Oi, don't worry about me," he exclaimed, with a forced lighthearted tone. "You want to take me out on an adventure, don't you Dr. Jones, Ms. Noble! Well, don't let me and my paranoid terrors stop you! Nope! Don't want to be the 'nutter' of the group! All scared of my own shadow.." His eyes strayed to the looming door that seemed a lot more menacing then before. "Nope, not me, nothing to worry about," he babbled on. "Just possible impending doom, that's all."

Hands visibly shaking, he straightened his hat, to cover his eyes a bit more and wrapped his scarf, a bit more tightly, around his mouth. Double hearts pounded in his chest and cold sweat spotted his brow. Feeling a firm hand take his own, his eyes glided up the hand's arm, to the shoulder, to the face that owned the hand. Her blue eyes sparked with determination and security, promising safety. Another firm and reassuring hand grabbed his left and he knew that to be the hand of Martha Jones.

"Are you ready?" Martha asked, kindly. The Doctor's pupils grew in fear and he choked on the heavy gasping breaths that left his mouth. His teeth chattered from terror of the unknown, but he quenched his anxiety, closing his eyes in determination.

"No," he answered, simply.

"There's no rush, Spaceman," Donna stated, rubbing comforting circles on his hand, with her thumb. The Doctor gave a strangled and desperate laugh.

"Whoever said bravery is easy is an idiot," he spat with derision. His eyes caught Donna's. "I can't do this. I just can't." Lips wobbling, his whole previous bravado melted away. He backed away slowly, only to be held firmly still by the two hands in his own. Donna pulled him close, continuing to rub circles into his back. Burying his head into her shoulders, he attempted to compose himself.

"You can do this, Spaceman," she encouraged passionately. "I know you can. You have faced down monsters before. It is time to do it again and you'll have both me and Martha by your side the whole time." He shook his head rapidly, in denial.

"What do you need?" Martha asked, trying to ease the fear. "Just let me know and I'll try my best to provide it."

"My room," the Doctor mumbled. "I want to go back to my room." Martha's heart fell. She thought, she believed, he would actually do it. That he would find the will and courage to conquer his fears. But the wounds were too fresh and she found it only scared him more with just the prospect of going outside. She sighed. This was going to be a lot more challenging than she originally thought. Not that she had any belief that it would be easy.

Donna held the Doctor close, nervous tremors wracking his body. She smoothed back his hair, kissing his temple, as he leaned in closer.

"I don't want to do it," he murmured into her ear. "I don't."

"I know sweetheart, I know." Donna pursed her lips. She could feel the panic that he was emanating, that deep, dark fear. But she also knew her Spaceman. She knew he wanted to do it, to conquer the fear that haunted his dreams. He just needed a bit of a push in the right direction. Stiffening in her hug, the Doctor lifted his head towards the door. Tear-blurred eyes watched the front door with trepidation.

"Someone's coming," he stuttered. "Someone's walking up the front steps." Donna listened closely, catching the slow footsteps of someone trundling up to the door and a key being placed into the lock. Immediately, the Doctor's grip tightened and a threatening, terrifying quirk of the lips curved his face.

The door opened and the Doctor lunged forward, with surprising speed, before sliding to a stop, tripping over his own two skinny legs, and falling to the ground. Donna and Martha watched in shock, as the Time Lord's demeanor changed, resulting in a sudden, failing ambush. In a split second, he had gone from cowering and scared, to vicious attack dog and they did not even know what had caused it.

The Doctor had every intention to protect his two companions. He was not about to allow anyone to hurt the people he cared about. He would not dare say he had let his imagination go wild. That he thought that they were under attack, which was completely preposterous, considering that if they were under attack, the people doing the attacking would not have used a key. So, the Doctor sat on the floor, a blush pinking his cheeks at his embarrassing and possibly deadly reaction born from his overactive imagination.

"Hullo Doctor," Wilf exclaimed cheerfully. "Mighty shock you gave me there. Everything alright?" Well, he could definitely curl up and die in a hole about now. He had reacted hastily, without thinking logically and had almost hurt the kindhearted man, who he considered family. And here Wilf stood, not even fazed by his sudden attack. A cheerful grin planted on his lips, but then again he did make quite the blunder and fell flat on his bum.

"Just fine," the Doctor muttered, pride hurt. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"Nah," Wilf stated, nonchalantly. "Just a bit of a shock. Luckily, you tripping over your feet lightened the mood." Chuckling, he aided the gangly Time Lord back to his feet and straightened the scarf and coat. His kind blue eyes evaluated the Doctor's condition and new appearance. He raised one snowy eyebrow. "New look?" The Doctor blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging.

Donna threw her arms around her Gramps, holding him closely and Martha stepped forward, to check on the Doctor. Besides his pride and a bruise, nothing else seemed to be injured.

"Where have you been?" Donna directed at her grandfather. "You weren't here when I got home and the Doctor's been alone most of the day."

Wilf glanced over at the mentioned Time Lord, before meeting his granddaughter's loving, curious stare. "Oh, the astronomy club had a meeting today and I promised I would be there. Well, promised Minnie at least." A small blush painted his face and he straightened his black beanie, with a smile. "Lovely woman, she is."

"How was it?" the Doctor spoke up, shyly. "The club, I mean."

"Wonderful," Wilf exclaimed. "You would love it Doctor. It's all about space and aliens! Every month we get together, to do a bit of stargazing. The meeting today was to set up that date. We're planning to go out in a few days together and set up on the hillside near the park. Maybe I could take you along with me? If you want to, that is." The Doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe," he responded.

"I'm sorry I had to leave you today, Doctor," Wilf answered, kindly. "I hope everything went well."

"Meh, don't apologize," The Doctor stated. "I was fine. Sat in my room, thought - that's about it. Honestly, I can be alone for a while. It's not like I have suicid.." The Doctor didn't complete his sentence. "Sorry, that was a bit rude, wasn't it?"

"Nope, not at all," Wilf assured. "Not at all, Doctor." Martha stepped forward and a grin once again popped onto his old face. "Martha! Good to see you again sweetheart!" he pulled her into a warm grandfatherly hug. "Missed you at breakfast."

"Yeah, sorry about running. My boss called me in - said it was urgent."

"No need to apologize, I understand," He stated, good-naturedly. "Now, what are you three up too?"

Donna and Martha shuffled their feet, before risking a glance over at the Doctor, who had stiffened once more.

"We're taking the Doctor outside today," Donna stated. "That's why he's all bundled up."

Wilf lifted a brow. "Does he want to?" The Doctor rapidly shook his head and Wilf frowned.

"We think, Mr. Mott," Martha explained. "That he needs to face his fear and see that the world is not so bad. He's been cooped up inside for far too long and the fresh air would do him some good."

Wilf's eyes met the Doctor's. "Do you want to go out, lad?" The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, before his nails caught his interest.

"I'm not sure," he muttered. "Too many people out there. Something bad could happen."

"You can't let fear hold you back, son," Wilf said, lovingly. "Sometimes you have to brave the things you fear the most." The Doctor nodded his head.

"I know."

"What about this, Doctor," Wilf continued. "What if I come along too? I can keep an eye out and these old bones are pretty quick on their feet. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Martha and Donna are coming too," the Doctor stated, with an almost child-like tone.

"I'm not surprised. These two beautiful ladies love being by your side," he replied with a wink and a playful grin. "How could you object to that?" the Doctor shrugged again, but this time the beginning of a smile twitched at his lips. He laid a supportive hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "What do you say, shall we go out?"

Nodding his head, the Doctor faced the front door once more. "Yes, I guess so."

"You guess so," Wilf exclaimed, playfully. "That's not very reassuring." The Doctor nervously chuckled.

"I guess not."

"Well, come on, lad, ladies. Let's have a bit of an adventure," Wilf proclaimed, but paused to look down at the Doctor's bare feet. "You may want to put some shoes on, it's a bit chilly."

"No shoes."

"How about some socks then?" Wilf compromised. "They're not shoes, but they'll still keep your feet warm. I've got a pair you can borrow."

After puzzling the offer for a moment, the Doctor gave a nod of agreement. With a skip to his hop, Wilf sprightly bounced into his room, defying his own age. Not a moment later he was back and tossing a pair of black socks at the Doctor, a telescope tucked under his arm. The Time Lord could not help but smile at the old man's enthusiasm. When he pulled on the black socks, he told himself that it was not because he needed them or anything, but more that he wanted to appease the older gentleman. Wilfred had become somewhat of a father figure to him, during his short time with the Nobles. Wiggling his toes within the dark cotton, he glanced at all three encouraging faces. After a final rearrangement to his scarf and hat, he nodded. Donna took his hand and Martha the other. Wilf patted his shoulder.

"Sylvia, sweetheart," Wilf shouted. "Me, Donna, Martha, and the Doctor are going out for a bit. See you soon!" and with that he threw the door open, with Sylvia's barks of 'What?' behind them. Flashing the Doctor an encouraging wink, he stepped outside. "Take your time, lad. I'll just go out first and wait for you." With that, Wilf made his way down to the gate and leant against the fence, waiting for the Doctor to join him. Sucking in a deep breath, the Time lord closed his eyes and counted to ten. The reassuring squeezes from both Martha and Donna prompted him forward.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that chapter! Well, the Doctor's going outside for the first time in a very long time. Hope troubles not around the corner. ;) Please let me know what you think.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Well, here's chapter 18! Hope you enjoy this one as well! I want to thank thisdayandage for helping me with this chapter and giving me some pointers. It has helped a lot with the development of my writing skills. Please review! I love reviews!**

Chapter 18

In the doorway of the Noble's home, the Doctor stood. Only his eyes peeked out, while the rest of his body stayed hidden indoors. His hearts pounded, but the fresh scent of earth calmed it. Taking a long sniff, he closed his eyes. Oh, how he had missed that earthy smell. It was the scent of life outside this stagnant house. Yes, the Noble's house was cozy, but nothing could beat the smell of fresh air. But, he knew, if he stepped one foot outside that door, he would be facing danger. Already he was facing danger, just by having his head sticking out for everyone to witness. A sniper, with a tranquilizer could be sitting atop one of the houses and as soon as he came into view, he would be shot down, like an animal.

Animal, that single word made his blood boil and a sour taste touch his tongue. No matter how much they had tried to convince him that was what he was. Deep down in his heart, he was not an animal. He knew that. Martha and Donna knew that. Wilf and Sylvia knew it too. But, they had tried to corrupt his mind. Turn him into something he was not, a monster. Yes, he was a killer. But he killed to save many lives. Did that make him a monster? It seemed the Underground believed that was so. They managed to weed evil and hatred into the minds of those other aliens and had tried to do the same to him. He saw what those aliens became, when they stopped resisting. They died. Their souls died and they became Evil's puppets. But, that had not happened to him. He had escaped. But now that he was finally venturing out, he was exposing himself, to a possible capture. His eyes followed the small path, where Wilf stood, with an encouraging smile on his face and a pipe in his hand, as he took a long puff and waved at the Doctor. The Doctor swallowed thickly, gazing at the two women, who stood next to him, both with supportive smiles on their faces as well. He saw the birds above twitter and the laughter of children playing was louder than when he had first heard it in his room. It was inviting, innocent.

"Come on, Spaceman. You can do it," Donna encouraged. Tightening her hand's hold, she smiled warmly. "Just one step."Adam's apple bobbing, the Doctor glanced back at Wilf. He closed his eyes and took his first, shaky step onto the step. He heard cheering from afar and caught Wilf throwing his fist in the air, pipe in hand. He glanced down. His foot was on cement. A cement step in fact. He took his other foot and placed it next to the one, which took the first step. Another celebratory whoop was heard and he could not help the smile that crossed his freckled face. He wobbled a bit, legs feeling like jelly, but two pairs of hands balanced him.

"Look at you, Doctor," Wilf shouted, slapping himself on the knee. "I knew you could do it! A brave heart never dies." At that moment, he felt the fear wash away and a determined look crossed his face. He could do it. He was going to meet Wilf next to the gate. He scanned the surrounding area, making sure the coast was clear, before his eyes set firmly on Wilf's. The old man smiled and threw open his arms, welcomingly. The Doctor was not a coward and if Wilf, Donna and Martha all felt safe outside, then so should he. He was protected, just like he protected them in the past.

"Donna, Martha," he addressed the two women next to him. "Hold on to me. I don't want to fall. My legs aren't used to walking long distances anymore." He felt their grasp tighten and a firm hand placed behind his back.

"Spaceman are you sure?" Donna asked, a smile on her face. The Doctor nodded his head.

"Yes," he replied. "I am. I'm ready to go outside."

"There's no rush," Martha added.

"I want to meet Wilf next to the gate," he answered. He took another step forward and then another.

"Good," Martha said. "You're doing great."

"I know."

"Do you feel scared?" Donna questioned, checking over the Doctor's present status, as they slowly made their way down the steps and towards the gate.

"Surprisingly, no," he said. "I think the adrenalin rushing through my veins, at the moment, is canceling out the terror I should be feeling." He peeked over at Donna, who held a smile on her lips. "Or I am extremely determined to make you lot proud. Either way, I'm ignoring the gut-gnawing fear. It just feels like butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. You?"

"Same," Donna replied, to which the Doctor quirked an eyebrow.

"But, you've been out dozens of times?"

"Yeah, I know captain obvious," Donna retorted. "It's just that I'm here to witness your first time venturing out, since we arrived at home. And it's giving me chills."

"Chills?" he repeated, cheekily.

"Yeah, chills," Donna spat back, a playful smile playing on her lips. "I thought we'd never walk outside hand in hand again."

Sadness pooled in The Doctor's brown orbs as his look darkened. "Did I make you lose hope?"

"Me, lose hope? Nah, I knew one day we'd be out and about again."

"Were you scared the first time you left the house?" the Doctor innocently asked. Donna looked at him seriously.

"Petrified."

"What made you leave then?"

"You and my family. I needed to be strong for you, Gramps and Mum, or I would have crumbled. That's why I left when I did because I knew if I stayed inside I would never leave."

"I guess that makes me a coward, compared to you," the Doctor replied.

"No, it means you both dealt with your traumas differently and left at your own pace," Martha answered. "You're not a coward, Doctor. Never think that. You were just dealt the harsher hand."

He nodded his head, not fully agreeing with Martha, but wanting to satisfy her, somewhat, with his reaction. His eyes noticed the trees looming overhead. A soft smile graced his features, when he noticed two squirrels chattering. A ball bounced by the fence and two children ran after it, laughing. He saw people walking their dogs. A cat sitting on a trashcan and the soft twitter of life, that every planet had, reached his ears. He had missed it. For so long he had only been an observer, now he had stepped into their world, to experience life as it should be once again. Yes, deep down he felt the icy, cold fear that normally controlled him, but today was different. Today, it was toned down and he felt a bit like his old self, but that did not stop him from keeping an eye out for possible hostiles.

Hostiles, a term he had never used before. Never had he found any creature particularly hostile. Well, his companions did, but he always tried to look at the more optimistic side of situations. With a knack for talking himself out of issues, he always had a more superior outlook. He knew that every creature, every monster out there had one particular goal and that was to survive. And because of that he could never hate anyone or think of them as hostiles, until now. Now, he could see the deep evil that he always overlooked. Overlooking it kept him sane. Because he knew if he lost all hope in the races of this universe that he would go mad. He was not a foolish man. He knew about evil and dealt with evil, every day of his life. It was just that he preferred to see the beauty of the universe, instead of the ugliness.

With his thoughts wandering, he had not paid attention where he was going. Before his eyes, the gate grew closer with every step and the smiling face of Wilf looked back at him, encouraging him along. If anything though, he was raging inside, with questions and looking for answers. Mind jumping from thought to thought, he did not notice the tiny step of imperfection in the sidewalk and where he next placed his foot. Foot catching into the crack, he found himself flailing his arms, stepping awkwardly, and tripping over his own feet, once again. Face first, he fell down, except he never hit the ground. Three pairs of hands held him up and fatherly arms wrapped around his shoulders. Drawing a deep breath, the Doctor glanced up at the kind, smiling eyes of Wilf's.

"Whoa, there we go, Doctor," Wilf exclaimed, steadying the Time Lord. Martha and Donna hovered over him, checking to make sure everything was alright. "That would have been a nasty spill."

The Doctor blushed with embarrassment. It was the second time he had fallen. Never had he fallen so heavily before and he found it humiliating. Especially that he had done it in front of people he respected and cared about. Always, he had been the one with power and grace in every stride - not clumsy like this. But as of recently, or since the Underground, he could never keep a steady footing for long periods of time. He felt like a bumbling idiot and he hated it.

"Sorry, I'm not one to fall often," he stated meekly. These types of mess-ups would have gotten him punished.

"No need to apologize, lad," Wilf replied. "Look." He pointed towards the Noble's house, which was a good ten feet or so away from the gate. "You made it. You're outside, in the open. That is a huge accomplishment!"

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth. It was a huge accomplishment. Going outside ever again had seemed an impossible feat and here he was, standing in the Noble's front yard and no one had ambushed him, yet.

A set of enthusiastic arms wrapped around his neck and a kiss was planted on his cheek. Red hair brushed against his nose and he glanced down, catching Donna's own blue orbs. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "I knew you could do it." He felt a tingle start in his foot, before it made its way up his leg and into his belly. He felt warm. It was a comfortable sort of warmth that meant trust and security. He trusted these people - all three of them. They caught him, when he fell and pulled him back up. Feeling another gentle kiss on his other cheek, he turned to face Martha. Her eyes sparkled with pride, as she squeezed the Doctor's hand in an encouraging gesture.

"Are you ready to walk down to the park? It's not far and you can do with a bit of exercise."

"Also, if you grow tired, we can sit down and relax, get an ice-cream, or something," Donna added. The Doctor smirked.

"Ms. Noble, are you craving a frozen treat?" he teased. Donna smacked his arm playfully.

"Yeah, I am. Didn't get to finish my ice-cream last time?" Both swallowed at the memory, wrapping their arms around their chests.

"Quite right," the Doctor solemnly stated. "I guess I owe you an ice-cream then."

"I guess so," Donna responded back. "If you don't want to though, I completely understand."

"No, let's do it," the Doctor said. "Ice cream and ducks sound nice."

"Then Ice-cream and ducks it is," Wilf exclaimed. He puffed on his pipe, before blowing out the smoke. "Come on, my boy. Let's head down to the park!" Wilf did a small skip and opened the gate, throwing a hand out, indicating for them to go through first. Donna patted the Doctor on the shoulder, leading him out through the gate, with Martha following close behind. He felt uneasy, leaving the safety of the Noble's property, but if he made it to the gate, he could surely make it down the street and towards the park. Besides, he would be with Wilf, Martha, and Donna. They would protect him. He trusted their judgment because they would not let him fall.

* * *

The walk to the park was altogether uneventful, though the Doctor had found himself jumping at a few shadows. He avoided bumping into people, except for one guy who bumped into him and sneered.

"Watch it," the man with the Mohawk snapped, before briskly making his way down the street, to another group of men, standing in the entrance of an alleyway between houses. Gulping, his eyes sporadically checked everywhere. Absent from his vision, was any glistening of metal on top of the rooftops, so that meant no one was out to snipe him down. His eyes caught Martha's hand reaching into her pocket. He would not be surprised if she had some sort of weapon on her, considering she was a member of UNIT and UNIT personnel tend to never leave their house without something to protect them. Their jobs were dangerous and they were trained to prepare for anything.

Hands deep in his coat pockets, the Doctor padded along. He got a few weird looks, especially when people noticed his shoeless feet. Sticking close to Donna and Martha, he let Wilf lead the way to the park. Another man walked by, his head bent slightly to the side and jerky movements added to his strut. His eyes were glazed over as if he was in a daydream. The Doctor shook his head, writing him off as a possible drug addict. Martha and Donna seemed to do similar. They came to the entrance of the local park and he smiled, seeing the green grass and the young children playing on the playground nearby. An ice-cream parlour was across the street from the playground. Donna gave him a small squeeze. It felt nice being at the park, peaceful. There was not a lot of activity, except for the few younger children, playing on the swing-set.

The quacks of ducks caught his attention. Four ducks were paddling through the cool water, flapping their wings, and diving under the water wake, looking for food. The Doctor approached the pond, a cool breeze tickling his ear and a look of contentment crossed his face. Not caring that his trousers would soak through, he knelt down into the soft, moist grass and stuck a careful hand out towards one of the ducks. With a curious look, the duck paddled forward, quacking loudly. It was a mallard. He could tell from the green head and the grayish feathers. The other three were most definitely females, defined with plain brown feathers and the orange beak with a bit of black on top, and they were inquiring this new stranger more cautiously.

"King of the pond, I see," he murmured to the duck. The duck ruffled his feathers, nipping at the Doctor's fingers, before swimming away. Chuckling hollowly, the Doctor leant back on his hands. The scarf was coming undone, so he took the time to wrap it again. Already, his socks had soaked through and were getting uncomfortable against the skin of his feet.

Donna plopped down next to him, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Bit chilly, isn't it," she inquired. A disgusted look overcame her stiffened face. "And wet. My bums soaked, just from sitting on the grass for a couple seconds. Well, this will be fun walking home afterwards."

The Doctor grunted in response. Donna rolled her eyes. "I see we're resorting to caveman talk. Nothing important to say, Spaceman?"

The Doctor quirked a brow. "You didn't have to sit down on the grass, you know."

"Meh, saw my best mate sitting here alone and thought I'd join him. Everything alright?"

"Yep, just spending some quality time with the ducks. We had a nice chat."

"Good." Donna reached into her coat and pulled out a bag. "Got something for you." Turning towards Donna, he saw that in her hand, was a bag full of stale bread.

"When did you grab that?"

"When Martha was helping you get ready for our little outing. Knew there would be a few ducks about, thought it would be fun to give them a treat." She handed over a slice of bread. "What do you say, Spaceman? Want to feed some ducks?"

Smiling, he accepted the slice from her hand. Ripping a small piece off, he chucked it into the water. Immediately the ducks swarmed the tiny morsel, quacking madly. Donna threw her own piece in as well.

"Where's Wilf and Martha?" the Doctor asked.

"Gramps is sitting behind us, on the bench," Donna responded. "The walk tired him out and he needed to rest and Martha ran across the street to the ice-cream parlor to buy everyone ice-cream."

"It's kind of cold to have ice cream, don't you think?"

"You changin' your mind on me, Spaceman?" Donna replied, with mock defense.

"No, still want ice cream," the Doctor responded. "Does she know what flavor.."

"Chocolate on a waffle cone and if possible, some banana slices," Donna answered. Giving her an inquisitive look, a half smile twitching at his lips. "What?! I know what you like. You're not that hard to figure, anything with bananas and/or chocolate you would want."

"Thanks," he said. Donna nodded her head, before leaning it against the Doctor's shoulder. They continued to throw bread to the quacking ducks and the Doctor could smell the smoke from Wilf's pipe. The smoke had a very comforting sensation. For some odd reason, it reminded him of home. Not that anyone on Gallifrey smoked, it was just such a human thing to do and Wilf had become a father figure to the wayward Time Lord. So, whenever he caught the scent of the pipe's smoke, it relaxed him, making him feel like he belonged. He remembered reading stories, especially Christmas stories, about families sitting inside on a cold day and the father, or grandfather, was always smoking a pipe. Why his mind went down that tangent, he was not sure, but it did and it was a pleasant tangent at that. Much better than the normal dreary and terrifying tangents he had found his mind heading lately.

"Hey Mister, can I have some bread too?" a child's voice asked. Pulled out of his reveries, the Doctor was all of a sudden faced with a little blonde boy, with a missing front tooth. His hand was held out and a bright smile lit his light, brown eyes. Finally seeming to process what the little boy had asked, the Doctor handed him his own slice. Relishing, the boy took it and immediately began throwing tiny pieces into the pond. He plopped down right beside the Doctor. The child's boldness surprised him, but then again, when he was that age, he was quite bold as well. It came from the innocence of youth - an innocence he no longer possessed. It only reminded him over again, how he had seen too much, in his long years.

"I love feeding ducks," the boy exclaimed. "Except my mum forgot to pack some bread. She's right over there." The Doctor turned to where the boy pointed to see a blondish woman, watching her child intently. The boy waved at his mother and she waved back. He threw in his last piece, before holding out his hand for another slice, which the Doctor kindly gave to him.

"I like your hat," the boy stated out of the blue. Pointing to his head, he indicated the hat that sat atop Doctor's. A bright smile appeared on his face. "And you're scarf. The colors are nice. Red's my favorite, you know."

Shyly, the Doctor glanced down at the ground, picking at his own piece of bread. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"May I ask why you are wearing it?" the little boy questioned. "It's cold, but I don't think it's cold enough to wear a woolen scarf and hat." Intently, the little boy waited for an answer, not concerned if his question was invasive. The Doctor shrugged and Donna could not help, but snort from the similar curiosity that the boy had. It reminded her of the Doctor's own inquiring questions.

"He's afraid of germs," Donna stated, with a teasing glint. "Every time he sees a germ, he just freaks. So he likes to keep his mouth covered." The Doctor face-palmed himself and gave a huffy glare in her direction. Donna shot an innocent look back. "What? It wasn't like you had a cover story," she retorted. "Donna," he whined. The little boy patted him on the shoulder.

"It's alright Mister, I understand," he sympathized. "I don't care much for germs either. They make you sick and they're icky. I got to see pictures of germs in school. Boy, I wouldn't want to breathe in any of those."

The Doctor couldn't control the smile that crossed his face at the boy's pure innocence. He had taken what Donna said to heart and wanted to let the Doctor know that he understood his strange, yet fake, unreasonable fear. There was not a malice bone in that child's body and it warmed his two aching hearts, to see a child so caring. "Thanks," he replied.  
"What's your name?" Donna asked, friendly. "I'm Donna by the way and this is the Doctor."

The little boy giggled, a dimpled grin spreading across his face. His nose crinkled in amusement. "The Doctor, that's a silly name."

"My parents were silly people," the Doctor responded, playfully. He would not tell the little boy that he had chosen the name, during his initiation, nor how he had a name before his current one.

"Well, my name's Josh and I'm seven years old, almost eight. Nice to meet you, Doctor, Donna."

"Seven's a big number and eight is even bigger," the Doctor responded. Josh nodded proudly and threw another piece of bread into the water. The Ducks swam closer, their quacking growing more insistent.

"That one's Billy," Josh stated, pointing at the male mallard. "He looks like a Billy to me."

The Doctor nodded his head in agreement. "He does have a sort of Billy air to him. King Billy of the Duck Pond!"

Josh laughed. "He is king of the ducks. He sort of scared away all the other male ducks and is the only boy left."

"What about the three lady ducks, over there," Donna pointed at them. "What do you think their names are?"

The boy scratched his chin, frowning in concentration. "I think that one is Velma, that duck is Daphne, and that one is Daisy."

"Oooo, good names," the Doctor exclaimed. "I love Scooby Doo and Mickey Mouse! Excellent name for a trio of lady ducks."

Donna handed the little boy another slice of bread. "Too bad they won't come closer," said Josh, with a sigh. "They like to keep a distance."

"Well, maybe I can get them to come a bit closer," the Doctor mused. He stood to his feet and flapped his arms around a bit, creating a mantra of quacking noises. Quickly, the group of ducks grew interested in the strange noises, coming from the odd man. He then proceeded to holler. "Come here you ducks. We've got bread. If you want more, you'll have to come ashore!" Donna laughed at the sight. It seemed feeding ducks was all it took to get the Doctor in a good mood and forget his problems, for the time being. Surprisingly enough, the ducks swam closer, hopping on shore with a quick flap of their wings.

"It's working," Josh exclaimed. "It's actually working. You're doing it Mr. Doctor!" He stood to his feet, throwing the slices of bread onto the ground, where the ducks waddled closer to him. He gave an excited giggle and a smile that spread across the Doctor's face at the child's pure joy.

"So, now you're the duck whisperer," Donna stated, teasingly. "Are you going to start talking to ducks more often? Summon a flock when danger is near."

The Doctor chuckled. "As amusing as that may be, I don't think I could summon ducks to do my every bidding. That would be rude." When Wilf's amused chortle boomed from behind him, he could not help but wave at the elderly gentleman.

"Rudeness hasn't stopped you before," Donna, matter-of-factly, replied. Giving him a playful punch in his arm, he responded with a sarcastic 'ow.' They continued to feed the group of ducks, until Josh's mother called for him.

"Oh, time to go home," Josh announced. "It was nice meeting you two. Thanks for letting me feed the ducks." Tossing his final piece of bread, he rushed off to meet his mother. Hand in hand, the little boy and his mother left the park. Nervously, the Doctor glanced over at the ice-cream parlour, trying to maintain a soft smile on his face.

"I wonder where Martha is," the Doctor inquired. "She should have been back a while ago."

The casual shrug of Donna's shoulders was interrupted by a giant rumble, from far below the ground. As the earth shook, people were thrown to their knees and a large crack manifested along the street, heading towards the ice-cream parlour. Falling to the muddy ground, the Doctor's eyes widened with fear and his voice caught in his throat. As the small ice-cream shop rattled, from the force of the giant quake, a tree snapped. It was like a twig falling to the ground, but with a loud 'thud'. The only word that left the Doctor's mouth, in a hush whisper was "Martha."

* * *

**Well a nice afternoon outing turned into a disastrous event. Please review this chapter! I love getting feedback!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter! Here's chapter 19, hope you enjoy. I want to thank thisdayandage for editing my chapter. Please review! I love reviews. Also if you have any questions or comments, I will be happy to answer or comment back!**

Chapter 19

_The Doctor fell to the muddy ground. Eyes wide with fear, his voice caught in his throat. As the small ice-cream shop rumbled from the giant quake, a tree snapped, like a twig falling to the ground with a loud 'thud'. The only word that left the Doctor's mouth, in a hush whisper was "Martha."_

Eyes crinkling in determination, he steadily stood to his feet. The scarf had come undone and the hat lay discarded on the shaky ground, in the mud. Brutally, the earth shook again, throwing everyone back to their knees. He heard a crack, spotting several buildings crumble at the top and shrieks of fear emanating from them. The Doctor gritted his teeth, fists clenched. Another rumble took form and the crack grew larger. He ran forward.

"Spaceman!" Donna yelled behind him.

"Doctor!" Wilf called, at the same time. Both tried to stand to their feet, to follow the wayward Time Lord, but were soon knocked back down by another violent jumble. Donna crawled to her grandfather's side, wrapping her arms around him protectively. Holding him close, she spotted a wave move beneath and more cracks appear, larger and even fiercer than before.

"Where are you going!" she shouted, her eyes wide with fear. Fear she had not experienced, since the Underground. It was not fear for herself, but for that of her best mate. A friend, she had grown much closer to, than she ever thought possible. Another tremble sent her to the ground, but the Doctor managed to stay on his feet. His wild hair was exposed to the wind and the only thing keeping him protected from the slight chilly bite was his coat. The ducks had altogether left the scene and the pond was eerily quiet, except for the waves that rippled across the normally still water caused by the quakes. Another tree snapped and she heard children scream in fear as their parents clutched them close, protecting them from the destruction.

The Doctor turned to face her. There was no fear in his eyes, just cold determination. His lips were straight, with a slight curve to the corners and his hands balled in fists. Muscles tense ready to sprint. "I'm going to find Martha," the Doctor announced. "She's in that building and could be hurt."

"Wait till the tremors are done," Donna advised. "You could get hurt along the way and no one would be there to help you along!"

Stubbornly, the Doctor shook his head, before turning away and sprinting towards the ice-cream parlour. "Stay with Wilf," he shouted. "Protect him. I'll be back, Donna! Don't worry!" Every now and then, the trembles knocked him to his knees. Brushing away the pain, he simply continued sprinting towards the parlour, though he was not going as fast as he would have liked.

Car alarms blared and people ducked for cover, as tree branches whipped around, smashing against the hoods of cars. But the Doctor paid no heed to the destruction, his one and only goal was to find Martha and get her out of that building. A car drove past, spinning out of control and crashing into the nearest tree. He should have been worried about the driver, but the man was not his top priority. Whoever was driving or walking in this quake, he considered an idiot. But, what did that make him?

Another tremor formed and the crack grew longer, finally reaching the ice-cream parlour. Violently, the Doctor was knocked to his knees. Bile rose up his throat, as an unwanted memory began to form, but he pushed it back. In the same moment that he glanced up to the destination Martha was at, the parlour crumbled. It went down with a sickening crack and he could see every brick fall to the ground, breaking on impact. Only half of the building was destroyed. The other section stood tall, except for the few creaks, announcing its weakness, at a few architectural points.

Stumbling to his feet, for a split second he merely stood in shock, before shaking off his confusion and sprinting towards the disaster. Another groan came from the parlour. Because of this distraction and his own fear, he almost tripped and slipped into the deep crevice in the ground. Luckily, he noticed it, before steadily jumping over the glaring hole and landing on the sidewalk, next to the ice-cream shop. The trees lashed, reminding him of whips and he shuddered. But, he had a rescue mission to carry out, for a dear friend of his.

"Martha!" he called, stepping onto the crumbled stone, as he made his way into the dark abyss of the shop. "Martha! It's the Doctor! Where are you?!" He paused his calling, waiting to hear an answer, but none were forthcoming. His blood ran cold and he felt the blood in his face drain considerably. "Martha!" he tried again. Already his night vision had switched on and his eyes glowed in the dark - much like you would see a cat's own eyes glow at night. He scanned the ruin that was once the ice-cream parlour, just as the earth gurgled once more. He stepped onto more crumbled stones. Debris, dust, and rock covered the counter top and tables and the display glass was shattered. Above, there was a brief flicker, from a florescent light, before it died completely. Tripping over something soft, he dragged himself back to his feet.

He felt a shoe. The shoe belonged to a leg. Following it with his eyes, he discovered a torso and head. Hidden behind the counter, was a body. The figure looked unconscious, but the Doctor was not sure. Edging forward, he stuck two cool fingers against his neck, to confirm a diagnostic. The Doctor sighed, in relief, to know that the person was still alive.

Debris covered the white uniform of the man. Blood soaked through his pant leg, bubbling out, and spilling over the floor, causing the Doctor's face to take on a ghostly, pale tint. Blood brought back too many horrid memories, which he wished would altogether disappear. But they did not disappear, they would not and he knew he would be stuck with them, forever.

The man groaned beside him, eyes fluttering open and a coarse cough left his dry throat. The first thing the man noticed was the pain in his leg. He shrieked, hands instinctively moving to his wound to stem the blood flow, but the Doctor knocked his hand back and for the first time noticed the stranger sitting by his side.

"W-Who a-are y-you?" the man stuttered, through gritted teeth. "W-When d-d-did you get-t-t here?"

"Just moments ago," the Doctor answered. "Looking for a woman about 5'2, black hair, brown eyes. She came in here, before the quake happened."

Painstakingly, the man nodded his head. A heavy gulp slid down his dried throat. Face paled in agony, he pointed a shaky finger, to the back of the room. "She w-went th-that w-w-wa-way. N-Needed t-to u-u-use the b-bat-bathroom." The Doctor nodded his head, leaning the man against the table. A whimper of pain escaped the man's lips.

"What's your name?" the Doctor asked, before prodding the wound, initiating a hiss of agony.

"W-Winston," he replied.

"Nice to meet you, Winston," the Doctor stated, with cheery, but fake, comforting demeanor. He did not feel cheery at all. In fact, he felt miserable and the bombarding flashbacks were not helping at all. He would prefer to suffer through them, curled up in a corner of his room. At the moment though, Winston needed his help and so did Martha. As always, his suffering would have to wait. Shoving the memories to the back of his mind, he forced all his strength and will to help Winston. At least it was something he was still capable of.

"Winston," the Doctor stated. "You're an extremely lucky man. It's a minor wound, caused by a few shards of glass, embedded in your muscle tissue. From what I can see, it has not penetrated any major arteries. It just hurts like the Dickens." Eyes still screwed shut, Winston sighed in relief. Removing his coat, The Doctor's brain moved through procedures faster than he could process them, or his actions. "Right now, the glass inside your leg is slowing the blood flow. I can't remove it, until a medical personnel come to your assistance, but I can give you my coat to keep warm." The Doctor handed the man his coat.

"T-Thank you," Winston muttered, head lolling to the side. The earth trembled again. He wrapped the coat around his shoulders, painstakingly slow, groaning with every movement. Winston shivered, both from fear and the cold.

"I'll be back," the Doctor announced. "I just need to find Martha." Coughing in response, Winston's eyes drifted closed.

Stumbling back to his feet, then staggering to the back of the shop, the Doctor was careful not to trip over discarded items. A box, with four ice-creams lay smashed on the ground. One was a waffle cone, with chocolate and the Doctor grew more concerned. Steadily, he made his way to the back.

"MARTHA!" he called again, stepping over a toppled bin and pushing rubbish away, with his foot. "Martha! Please, answer me if you're conscious! I need to find you and get you out." Straining his ears, the Doctor listened for a heartbeat. For a brief second, he heard one to the right. He had to take a deep breath and close his eyes. This mess reminded him too much of one of the Underground experiments. Though, this time he had all of his senses intact. The memory sent a shiver down his spine. He flinched, hearing the ricochet of bullets spraying at him and the howls of four aggressive werewolves.

Cold sweat prickled his skin and he shivered. He just hoped that this did not turn into another disastrous test. Something cracked and he leapt out of the way, just in time to avoid a shelf that fell from its hinges. It hit the floor with a loud bang. The noise startled him and he hit the wall, in silent terror. Cautiously, he stepped forward, only to lean his hands on his knees. He attempted to steady his breaths. Puffing air out between his parted lips, he soothed them to a calm speed. Closing his eyes once more, he listened closely. That was when he caught the small, barely audible noise - a cough. The Doctor's eyes snapped open. That was all he needed to hear. Turning to face the bathroom door, hidden behind storage, he leapt over to it, pounded on it and listened closely. Her breathing was becoming stronger and it filled the Doctor with hope.

"Martha!" he shouted. "Martha! Are you in there?! It's me, the Doctor. Are you hurt?"

There was another rally of coughs, before an answer was heard. "No," she squeaked. "But I'm stuck. I can't get out, something's in front of the door and I can barely see." The Doctor scrunched his brows and nodded his head.

"I see," he responded. "Martha, if you can, move away from the door. I'm going to force it open."

"Ok," was the feeble reply. He heard shuffling behind the door, as Martha removed herself from danger.

"Alright," the Doctor explained. "On the count of three, I'm going to get this door unjammed, alright?"

"Yeah."

"One," the Doctor counted. He braced himself, preparing to kick open the door. "Two." He took a couple steady steps back. "Three." He ran forward and, with his full body weight, he threw himself against the solid door. He heard a crack, as the door weakened. He did it again, lifting a foot and slamming it into the middle of the door. The door fell off its hinges, but whatever blocked it was solid and kept the door from fully collapsing.

"Martha, what's blocking the door?"

"The sink," she replied. "It fell over. It wasn't really sturdy to begin with, but the earthquakes loosened it."

"Martha, I'm going to need you to move the sink over a bit," the Doctor stated. "Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, I can."

"The door will fall, so you better move out of the way."

"Ok." The middle of the door was a splintered mess, where the Doctor had kicked it. There was movement from behind the door, and the heavy breaths of heaving something that weighed a lot.

"Martha, are you ok?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Is it out of the way?"

"Almost - one sec."

Something smashed to the other side of the ground and the door loosened, falling to the floor. Debris sprayed the two friends in the face.

"That was easier than I expected," Martha huffed. "You must have moved the sink a bit, when you kicked down the door."

The sink was one of those flimsy sinks that were not really well connected to the floor to begin with. It had a round bowl with yellow stains, moulding the white. The Doctor grabbed Martha and pulled her into a hug, holding her close. Martha's breaths shortened and she stared at the Doctor, in mild shock from everything that just happened.

"Are you alright?," the Doctor asked, concerned. "Nothing broken, injured?" Martha shook her head.

"All in one piece."

"Good, good," the Doctor agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's get out of here. Winston is injured and I need help getting him out of the building." Martha nodded her head, stepping steadily over the fallen items and bricks. They made their way out into the shop area, where they found Winston still leaning against the table with the Doctor's coat. He was breathing heavily and sweat beaded his brow from the pain.  
"When the quake hit, the display broke and hit Winston in the leg," the Doctor explained. "He has a few shards of glass embedded in his leg, but we don't have the tools to remove the shards. We'll have to wait for an ambulance."

Martha nodded, but checked to make extra sure Winston was alright. She checked his pulse, temperature, as well as breaths he was inhaling and exhaling, before backing away. "He'll be fine." The Doctor bobbed his head, before looking outside at the destruction and mayhem.

"We should probably head out. The building is about to collapse. I can tell by the amount of creaking it's been making, since I came in."

"Alright, we'll need to support Winston's weight. You take his right, I'll take his left." The Doctor moved to Winston's side, who stirred from the sudden movement. His black eyes fluttered open and he gulped in pain.

"Hey, Winston," the Doctor greeted soothingly. "It's just me again. My friend and I are going to move you outside." A quake shook the ground, causing the trio to stumble and search for footing. The Doctor took a heavy breath. "Are you ready?"

Winston groaned, as the two strangers lifted him up and the three began to stumble towards the opening in the wall. The Doctor allowed Martha to go first, where she caught Winston's arms, as the Doctor passed him over the side of the bricks. The Doctor soon followed suit, climbing over the mountain of soot and bricks, and slid down. He helped Winston hobble down the path, before letting go, as another tremble shook the earth. This time the Doctor did trip. He fell to his knees, close to the large crevice, almost slipping down, if not for his quick hand, shooting out and grabbing something to steady him. Accidentally, he glanced down into the crevice and what he saw shocked him.

Something large and mean slithered right underneath the surface, like a never ending train. It whipped about, before diving deeper underground. In curiosity and concern, the Doctor's brow quirked, his large mind putting the pieces together. He may not know what the thing was, but one thing he knew for sure. Martha and Donna had forced him outside for a reason. And he was pretty sure this was the reason. His face held no emotion, as he made his way over to Martha and Winston, feeling betrayed.

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**Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Next chapter is on its way. Keep reviewing!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I want to thank thisdayandage for editing my stuff and helping me with my writer's block for chapter 21. I didn't know how to start it and couldn't get the ball rolling. Here's chapter 20, hope you enjoy! :)**

Chapter 20

The earthquake had calmed around fifteen minutes, before the Medical team had arrived. Helicopters flew overhead, as they landed at the location of the disaster. A media team was already on the case. It always surprised the Doctor how the media got around. Regularly, they seemed to be right where a disaster ended, always on time, or even early. Weaving through the crowds of people, he cautiously avoided bumping into people, or gaining unwanted attention. All he wanted to do was go home. Except home was with the people who exposed him to this-this mess, knowing full well what was out there. They betrayed him - betrayed his trust and that angered him.

He was tired of being used. Tired of being viewed a tool in another person's goal. That is how the human race viewed him. Nothing but something to use and discard when unneeded. He felt ill. His stomach ached at the thought of being deceived. Bile rose and tainted his mouth with a vile taste. He was frustrated, angry in fact and he wanted to run. Run far away from Earth and leave it to deal with its own problems. He could not have a simple outing without something going terribly wrong, both Martha and Donna knew this.

They were traitors. They used his trust against him and that hurt more than whatever the Underground had dished out. Never had he trusted the Underground employees. They had given him no reason to, only making sure he knew how they were going to use and abuse him. But Martha.. and possibly Donna took him down bit, by bit. Promising they would not let him fall. That he would be safe. All they had intended was going to have fun and have no worries. But, no, that was too much to ask. He should have known, as soon as he stepped foot outside those doors, something bad was going to happen. And this monster, this thing, the Doctor knew nothing about was underground.

The Doctor laughed hollowly, wiping at his mouth. It was funny how both monsters emerged from under the surface. There were the monsters from the establishment that held the Doctor against his will, and the one now made its home beneath the dirt.

"Hey, Sir!" an unfamiliar voice yelled. The Doctor whipped around, to see a dark haired woman, with mocha skin run at him. A camera crew followed right behind. She was dressed sharply, as any reporter would be, with a stupid plastered on smile. No doubt it would melt away, as soon as the camera maneuvered to capture her face. Then she would have fake sympathy for the town that was destroyed, or the destruction that befell the city of London. He had dealt with enough reporters in his long life and the only one he preferred to see was the one and only, Sarah Jane Smith. But he did not relish even her company at the moment. Not in this condition, at least. She would worry.

"I have a few questions to ask you about this terrible adversity that befell this part of London today," she pressed. Reporters were a pushy bunch and he had no need for them. If he told her to go away, it would unlikely in her nature to yield. The situation called for a bit of his Time Lord influence.

Turning to face the woman, who had chased him down, he enforced a cold and terrifying look. His voice grew hollow, chilled and it was as if he dove into her mind, implanting a thought for both her and her camera crew.

"How about we not have a little chat?" the Doctor advised, threateningly. "How about you run off with the rest of your pathetic little ape friends and leave me in peace." Emitting a menacing growl, he stepped forward. "Now shoo." The reporter stood stalk still, as if for the first time, witnessing an ethereal entity, before snapping out of it.

Normally, the media would continue pushing for answers, even after a threat, but not this time. The Doctor made her departure imminent, by suggesting to her more instinctual response systems, that he meant danger. Without a word, she fled, followed closely by her camera crew. Sighing, the Doctor leant against possibly the only lamp post that had not fallen, during the quake. He should have felt guilty for being cruel, but he was so tired and frustrated and all he wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts.

"Doctor!" The Doctor groaned, as Martha approached him, closely followed by Wilf and Donna. His attempts to avoid them were futile. It seemed the universe was against him and only wanted him to suffer. Arms were thrown around his stomach and he stiffened against them, knowing full well it was Martha. He refused to return the greeting. She was a traitor.

"Where did you go?" Martha exclaimed. She looked up at him and for the first time noticed the Doctor would not look at her. His face was pale and jaw set in anger. "You disappeared. I thought you were right behind me, but I had to get Winston to the nearest ambulance alone. Luckily, thanks to you, he'll be fine." The Doctor did not answer. Instead, he crossed his arms and turned away from his former companion. Blocking her off, he formed a wedge between their friendship. It was her fault he was out here and now he felt extremely unsure and unsafe about being in the open, with the crowds of people. He was safer in his bedroom, away from the outside world. In fact, it was probably safer inside the TARDIS, inside the vortex. That way, he would never be used again.

"Spaceman?" Donna asked. She placed a soft hand on his arm, but he yanked away.

"Go away," he muttered.

"That's enough of this nonsense," Donna shouted. With her hands on her hips, she gave the Doctor an even, steady glare. "Stop acting ridiculous, Dumbo. If it's a flashback, we'll help you, but we need you to tell us what's going on."

"What's wrong, lad?" Wilf asked, quietly. A lot different from his granddaughter's brash and straight to the point shout. Tenderly, he put a comforting hand on the Doctor's shoulder. The hand was a bit bruised from the first tumble he had, but it seemed he was fine overall. Through the quake, his granddaughter had protected him, covering his body from falling branches and collapsing trees. Thankfully, she had not been hurt, except for a few minor scrapes and bruises.

The Doctor felt his voice hitch. Tears prickled in his eyes, at the sight of his so-called 'friends'. They promised him. They had promised he would be safe. It did not happen as they said it would though. Were they not capable of being upfront and honest with him?

"How long did you know?" the Doctor asked, quietly.

"Know what?" Martha challenged, knowing full well what he meant. Another twinge of guilt hit her heart.

"About the monster, under the ground," the Doctor answered back, exhaustion evident in each word. Martha sighed, rubbing the back of her neck - a habit that she had learned from the Doctor.

"Oh, that," spoke Martha, pursing her lips. "Doctor, I'm so sorry."

"Doctor, what is she talking about?" Wilf sought, looking between the Doctor and Martha.

"Maybe you should tell us, Martha," the Doctor began, coldly, "About your real motives, for encouraging me to leave the house."

Sighing, Martha crossed her arms. "Doctor, before you jump to any conclusions you need to hear me out." The Doctor scoffed with derision, leaning his forehead against the pole. All the ruckus and people milling about, or doing their jobs was giving him a headache. "I know you don't want to believe what I have to say, but for once, just listen. When I am finished, you can make your accusations and judgments. And if you wish for me to leave your company, I will. Because I am your friend, no matter how much you want to deny it and I am here to make sure you heal, properly."

Diverting his eyes to the cracked cement beneath his feet, the Doctor was unable to look Martha in the eyes. He would not let her see the fear he felt, or the distrust that burned in his aching hearts. He could not look at Wilf, who had shown him nothing, but kindness and fatherly attention. Or Donna, his best mate, who rescued him from that hellhole. These were his friends. Yet, he felt himself torn between two feelings, he should not question, because one far outweighed the other. Distrust and rage was out-ruling the security and love he had always felt with these people. He could not even tell what was what anymore.

Normally, he was incredibly in tuned to his friends' drives and ambitions, but now he had no clue. And it scared him. Would he be deceived again? Have a woolen blanket blocked his sight from the truth? He had no desire to feel blind, victimized or alone. Yet, he did. What hurt most of all, was that it was his friends, who were making him feel this way. He wanted to listen to them, but he lacked the courage. He never had it to begin with. Always, he had been the coward, behind a hero's mask.

In his mind he heard yelling, people cursing his name. Where the collar had once been, he felt the familiar grip of pain around his neck and burning electricity raced down his spine. He would always be a slave, a prisoner, because he could never accept himself. He could never stand-up for himself. He hated himself and because of that he would always be a slave to his feelings and insecurities. Never would he be free, because he would always come back to the people, who hurt him and so many had. Why, still, did he continue returning to their side, when they called for help?

With his own planet, Gallifrey, he did it. His people had always looked down upon him, ridiculed him and yet when they called for help, he came. In the past, he had told himself, it was because he was the better person. Now though, he knew it was because he felt obligated to. Eternally, he was bound to them, out of fear of being advertised as weak. He wanted to be thought of as capable. Disregarding how many times they tore him down and attempted to crush his dreams, he never left. And now that they were gone, he was doing the same with Earth.

He always came back to Earth's aid, no matter how many times they hurt him. Torchwood had hurt him, made him public enemy number one, but he still helped them, when they were in trouble. Even after the Underground, he tried to save Colonel Graham's life. No matter how many times the man made his life miserable, the Doctor in the end still tried to save him.

His stomach lurched as realization dawned on him. Isn't that what a dog does? Protects his master no matter how terrible the abuse or betrayal is? A dog always comes back. He never runs away, or leaves forever. What did that make him? The Doctor shook his head, biting his knuckle. It was unfair, but he knew he could never escape this pattern, because it was ingrained into his mind. As soon as Martha explained herself, he would be running to the rescue and pulling Earth out of trouble once more.

"Spaceman," Donna's soft voice, broke out of his dark and jumbled thoughts. He felt her hand softly caress his arm and he turned to her with tear blurred eyes. "Maybe we should listen to what Martha has to say."

In defeat, the Doctor nodded his head. "But..."

"Shhh.. It's ok," Donna whispered, soothingly.

"Did you know about this?" the Doctor choked out. "About her plans?"

"Somewhat, yes," Donna replied. "But, for me, it was more that I wanted you to be outdoors and feel the fresh air against your face once more. I was hoping nothing would happen and it would be a nice afternoon. But unfortunately-"

"I am a trouble magnet," the Doctor muttered with scorn. Donna could only nod her head and grip his hand tighter. She was pleased to see that he was not going to pull away or ignore her.

"Doctor, I am sorry I was not straight forward with you before," Martha began. "And I understand if you don't want to see me ever again, but this is important for you to hear and Earth is in grave danger, again. Funny, how this planet finds trouble without even looking."

"Sounds familiar," Donna muttered, shooting a look over at the Doctor, before returning her attention back to Martha. The Doctor listened intently, to what Martha had to say, deciding he would pass judgment afterwards. Besides, she was his friend and she deserved an open mind and willing ears, though, right now, he would rather not provide it.

"You know, I originally didn't have any ulterior motives, when Donna called me in for help," Martha started. "I simply came here, saw you so depressed and sick, I wanted to make you better. But, during my time spent with you, I was also working a case for UNIT.

"It started when the first earthquake struck. Some people reported seeing a type of green meteor hurtle through the sky, before the earth started to shake."

"Yeah, I saw that meteor too," Wilf acknowledged. "Since I was spending time with the Doctor and chatting with him, I didn't pay it much attention."

"I suppose it was something alien then," the Doctor stated, indifferently. "Always is, with you lot."

"At first we weren't sure," Martha stated. "We dismissed it as just another meteor that would have disintegrated into Earth's atmosphere."

"And the green glow didn't catch your interest," the Doctor stated, stunned. "I mean, I would think that something like that would alert people to danger. Green is not a natural color for a falling meteor."

"Well, I was curious about it and I kept the observation in my thoughts. But, Doctor you have to remember, strange occurrences are always happening and many are not as dangerous as they make out to be." The Doctor glanced around at the destruction and chaos that surrounded them. He arched a quizzical brow that basically said 'Are you kidding me?' Martha shook her head and laughed a hollow chuckle. "Yeah, well, now I know it was a big mistake, not to pay attention to the signs right away. It was stupid on my part, as well as UNIT's.

"But after the first earthquakes happened, something horrendously awful followed. We were called in to investigate the murder of a woman. We found her strangled in ivy vines, suffocated. We brought her in for forensics. During our testing, we discovered a greenish spot on her neck that forensics could not identify. We continued to perform extensive research, until another murder happened. A man, by the name of Ralph Horseman died on his front lawn, with thousands of puncture wounds spread throughout his body. His wife had called in, as well as a few neighbors, announcing his murder. He also had a green spot on his neck."

The Doctor lowered his eyes once more, face pale from the gathered information. He could not help but blame himself. If he was not so weak, if he paid attention to the news, or at least did something, this could have all been prevented.

"It wasn't until this morning, when eight-year-old Josephine Millbrook was killed, that UNIT decided they needed your help. Colonel Mace wanted the case closed and to do so, he needed your expertise. He asked me to find you and convince you to help us. I didn't want to, at first, because you weren't quite yourself, but I decided it had to be done. After seeing a little girl dead, I knew that we needed you. I am sorry, I was not straight forward before and I feel awful for being deceitful. But, I was scared you would not help us. Besides, I did want you to feel the freedom of the outdoors again. This earthquake wasn't supposed to happen. I was hoping you would have a few days or more to recuperate. I didn't want you thrown out into another problem, so soon."

Pausing in her story, Martha waited for a response from the Doctor. His answer did not come right away. He stared at the havoc, unable to lock eyes with any of his companions. His eyes brimmed with tears and disgust. How selfish had he been?

"A little girl died?" he gasped, a tear sliding down his face. "She never even had the chance to live."

"Yes," Martha confirmed sadly. "She didn't."

"Then it is my fault," the Doctor despondently stated. "If I wasn't such a coward, all of this wouldn't have happened. If I just manned up and dealt with my issues, Earth would be safe." That was when a sharp slap met his arm and he let out an involuntary yelp, clutching the assaulted appendage.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Donna spat. "What happened, happened. It's now time to move on and figure out how to make the situation better."

The Doctor nodded his head, gliding careful fingers through his wild hair. "How many people have died?"  
"Three, but I have a feeling there might be more that were not reported," Martha answered. "The forensics teams back at UNIT are testing the three bodies we have found and will call me if they find something of importance."

"Alright," the Doctor responded. "Who else is involved besides UNIT?"

"Torchwood – sort of," Martha admitted. "They have been having earthquakes as well and are keeping measurements of each quake that happens. I've talked to Jack, but at the moment UNIT doesn't want to call in outside help."

"Well, we are going to call in outside help, if they like it or not," the Doctor retorted. "I want to hear both sides of the story and if Torchwood is somewhat involved, they will have extended knowledge from what you lot have."

"I'd like to go meet Jack, face-to-face," Donna replied. The Doctor bobbed his head in agreement.

"I would like Jack's help as well," he agreed.

"Then I'll set up a UNIT transport truck, to bring you to Cardiff," Martha replied. "It will be a long haul, but if you're up for it, I'm willing to do it. I'll be heading back to UNIT to check up on the data results."

"I'll come along with you and Donna, Doctor," Wilf announced. "I can help you when the ride grows rough. And it's always nice to have a bit of friendly company."

"Are you sure, Wilf?" the Doctor asked. Wilf waved his hand, in a dismissive manner.

"Very sure," Wilf replied. "It's an adventure. I wouldn't want to miss it."

Slipping his hands into his pockets, the Doctor sighed. "It is funny, how trouble always finds me. I can never ask, or get a simple break. I'm always rushing off to save somebody." Like a rescue dog. The Doctor frowned when that cruel thought crossed his mind, but he cleared his head soon enough.

"I guess I'm back in business," the Doctor muttered, unenthusiastically.

Martha nodded her head and gloomily acknowledged, "I guess you are."

The Doctor exhaled, before pulling Martha into a big hug. He rested his chin atop her head, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I made you feel unsure about asking me for help. It was wrong of me."

"No Doctor, I should have respected your need for peace and healing," she replied. "It's my fault." The Doctor shook his head.  
"I would have had to deal with the matter, at some point anyways. No rest for a Time Lord, I guess."

Martha wandered off to make that call to UNIT and quickly learned UNIT was already on their way. She explained the situation, before hanging up and making her way back to the Doctor, Donna, and Wilf. The three were seemingly enthralled with something a news reporter was saying.

"It seems," the News reporter announced to the cameras. "That the earthquake only struck this specific area. No other places in Chiswick, or the wider London area were affected by this catastrophe. It brings up questions of what happened here today and is it another mysterious phenomenon that the government will try to cover up? I am Peggy Newton and this is BBC news."

The Doctor said nothing, his mind fumbling over a million questions and theories. His adrenaline slowly diminished, caused by the slowing of activity. A dull throb started in his leg.

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**Hope you enjoyed that chapter! Off to Cardiff now. Hope you will review! I love reviews.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I want to thank thisdayandage for editing this chapter. So, thank you, I greatly appreciate it. :)I'll try to respond to every review that is sent in and answer questions you may have. Please keep reading and reviewing!**

Chapter 21

After listening to the news anchor's report, the Doctor quietly stood. His mind fumbled, over the information that had just been handed to him. What would cause such a massive quake? Whatever it was, it was huge and deadly. The Doctor's hearts seemed to slow to a steady beat, as the adrenaline spike of the rescue wore off. Feeling his leg throb slightly, he paid little attention to it. He was too deep in his thoughts to deal with any sharp pricks of discomfort. He had to make sense of what Martha told him and what the reporter had said, or he would never be able to solve the mystery. At all costs, he needed to keep the citizens of Earth safe, from any horrors that became present.

The sharp pain pinched his skin again and the Doctor's face contorted in displeasure. Carefully, his fingers trailed down to his knee and he rubbed at it, feeling sticky ooze, soaking his trouser legs. His fingers came back up an orangey-red color. Face paling, harsh recollections flooded his mind.

He felt himself convulse and shake, as if whatever had been managing to keep the memories in check up until now had broken, like a dam. Dropping to the cold ground, he twitched and cringed, as he lived through each awful event.

_Blood, blood was everywhere - his blood. He had been stabbed. Why had he been stabbed? What had he done to deserve getting stabbed? _In a bid to protect himself, the Doctor clawed at his own face. _Claws ripped through his guts, shredding his organs. A howl, he could not hear, took form. An angry werewolf went in for the kill. _Deeper, his mind dipped, into the blackened liquid. Slowly, he was pulled into another hallucination, just as cruel as the first.

"_Get up," a cruel voice shouted. A foot was slammed into his guts, followed by his pain-filled groan. Six hours he had been suffering through this training session. Throwing punches and blocking possibly deadly kicks. The Major had been relentless, as well as employing five other men to attack him, __simultaneously. Left a desperate victim, he was forced to defend himself, from an ambush on all sides. Blood seeped from his nose and split lip, as he collapsed into a sprawl on the floor, gasping for air. The men circled him, like vultures to their prey. Another sharp kick compelled him to roll-over and steadily climb to his feet. He groaned. "The enemy never gives breaks," the Major hissed. "You would fail if this was how you'd behave on a mission. Your opponent would kill you and we would have wasted good money on your sorry alien ass. Now get up!" Jumping to his feet, he cracked his back and swept a hand across his bloody face. "Get into position, subject 13." Balling his fist, he readied himself for another onslaught of pain._

The Doctor convulsed again, as another terrible and very real memory gripped him. He could see familiar faces swarm into view and a familiar hand grasp his own. Unable to distinguish what was reality and what was in his head, he struck out.

"Doctor," a voice shouted distantly. It was like he was underwater, drowning. Everything seemed hazy, blurred. The voice that shouted for him was muffled. Recognizing the blur, he reached out, but could not touch it. "Doctor," the faint, watery voice shouted for him again. He found he quite liked the voice. It was friendly, though it seemed to have an underline of concern. Why was it calling for a doctor? Was it hurt? His mind fumbled with the thought, until realization dawned on him. Oh, right, he was the Doctor.

"You're bleeding. Just lie still." He was bleeding? Why was he bleeding? Where was he? Lie still? He was still. He was sleeping in water. Water was soothing. Well, some water was. Shower water was dangerous. It drilled through his skin, painfully.

"Oh, God," Another voice shouted, a wave of red crossed his sight. "He's bleeding a lot. Look the ground is soaked." The blur moved a blurry hand. "Why didn't I notice? What type of stupid friend am I?"

"It's alright, sweetheart," a third voice comforted. "Martha, do you need me to hold him still? He's convulsing a lot..."

Voices fading, the world grew black and the Doctor found himself shaking. His eyes snapped open and he was face to face with Bobby Mills. He felt his chest in spasm, as his breath hitched. Origami creations were strewn across the table. The janitor offered out a shaky hand, presenting a crane-shaped origami.

"_A c-crane," _he declared. Clicks of the safety, being switched off, echoed in his ears, followed by a bang. Hot blood splattered his face and there was a loud 'thunk' of bone hitting table.

"Bobby," the Doctor whispered. One tear slid down his cheek and then, the world became a blur.

Blood was everywhere - in every scene, in every memory. Some his, some others', but blood, all the same. The Time War had been a bloodbath. The soil on every planet was soaked with it and _he sat in the middle of a jungle. A bloody child, with a hole in his chest, lay in his arms. He was soaked in bluish-green blood. It was everywhere. The child had been shot down and the Doctor witnessed it and did nothing. He cried - cried for the child and his family, because they could not. Pulling the small body close to his chest, he was indifferent to the mess it would make of his Gallifreyan uniform. He glanced at the gun, the 'disintegrator' that sat next to him. A weapon like that killed an innocent child. He looked up at the four moon sky, as a hot drop of water hit his face and the continuous rainstorms started once more on this miserable planet. He promised himself, when the war was over, he would never pick up a gun again._

Eyes twitching open, a bright light caught the Doctor's sight. Defeated, he closed them again and he shivered. He had seen Carter's face, looming over him. A bloodcurdling scream exited his mouth and he kicked out.

Scared eyes shifted, as reality came back into focus. Three worried faces hung over him. He saw the sun and he squinted at the bright light that burned his eyes. Groaning, he moved his leg. Sharp pins of agony raced up it and he bit his lip. Blindly, he reached out, trying to find comfort in the cold chill he felt. Sweat soaked his forehead and hair. He let out an anguished cough.

His eyes blurrily searched for someone familiar, someone who understood the pain he was in. A hand clamped around his and he felt two more hands press him down into the dirt. No! He didn't want to lie down, he struggled against the grasps but found he had weakened. He kicked out and someone howled, falling backwards. Oh, he hoped he had not harmed the person. That would be very bad indeed.

"Doctor," a stern yet kind voice ordered. "Calm down. You'll hurt yourself even more, as well as one of us. You're hurt badly. Why didn't you tell us you were in pain?"

He was in pain? And at that moment his mouth shaped into a silent scream. His legs burned. They burned like somebody had jabbed a thousand hot pins into his legs. His arms shot out, shaking in distress and soft hands pushed them to the ground. His back arched and he screamed.

"Doctor, calm down," The voice ordered again. "UNIT's on their way. They'll be here with medical supplies shortly. We'll get your legs cleaned up and bandaged soon. For now, just stay still. Donna, keep pressure on the leg, to stem the blood flow."

"Is he going to be ok?" another woman's voice, he assumed to be Donna's, asked.

"Yes, he'll be fine," the other answered. "Wilf are you alright? Did he kick you, badly?"

"Just fine, sweetheart," Wilf huffed. "Worse has happened to me before. Just goin' to be a bit sore, for a while."

Jerking his head to the side, the Doctor tried to follow the conversation. He was confused. Why was he confused? Where was he? He did not know and everything hurt. His eyesight became clearer and he soon recognized Martha's face, her soft hand stroking and mopping his sweaty brow.

"M-Martha," he stuttered. "W-Where are we? Why do I hurt? Everything hurts. My leg fe-" The Doctor's eyes widened and he kicked out. "I'm on fire!" he shrieked. "Help!" He tried to roll away, but Martha held him down firmly.

"No, Doctor, you're not on fire," She told him, running a comforting hand along his cheek. She bit her lip in worry. "I should have known. I should have noticed your limp and I should have noticed when I hugged you. What kind of doctor am I?"

"It's alright," he swallowed. He didn't know why he had to comfort her, but he just had to. "E-Everybody m-m-makes mistakes."

"Well, this was a whopper," Martha exclaimed. Obviously, she was disappointed with herself and the intense emotions were bugging the Doctor's mind. They hurt his head even more. He groaned again. "I should have felt the blood and seen the limp and made an immediate diagnostic."

"You were in shock, Martha," Donna comforted. "We all were." The Doctor turned his head to her voice, yearning for it. All he could see was red. Where was her face? The Doctor's arm shot out, desperately.

"D-D-Donna," He muttered, his head whipping back-panicked.

Donna's voice came back. "Oi, you silly Martian. I'm right here. Not leavin' your side." Her hand cupped his. The gentle contact seemed to relax his body considerably. "Don't squirm so much. Your legs are pretty beaten up. Your shins have been scraped down to the muscle, from the amount of times you had fallen, during the earthquake, and they are filthy with germs and dirt. Martha needs to clean the cuts out, before you can heal."

Painstakingly, the Doctor nodded his head. Why had he not noticed his injuries until now? He must have been too concerned for Martha's safety and Winston's, that he threw his own health aside.

As his trouser legs ripped open, his pale face became tinted, with a red blush to the cheeks. Apparently, Martha had decided to do a number on his jeans and he somewhat hoped his pants would not be exposed to the public. Gradually, he found himself becoming more coherent to reality and the world seemed less blurry.

"Sorry, had to check your knees," Martha apologized. "I advise you not to move. It would strengthen the blood flow and cause more pain than need be."

His knees were inflamed, as well as his feet and he could not even tell why. A pain-filled gulp bobbed his Adam's apple and a whimper left his throat. The ground around his legs was growing sticky, no doubt from his blood. Another onslaught of bad memories overtook him. This time varying between the Underground, the Time War, and other painful injuries he had gained from his travels. The Doctor's hands tightened into fists and he gritted his teeth, hissing between his teeth.

"Spaceman," Donna's voice broke through the pain. "Take deep breaths. UNIT will be here shortly and then we can get you all bandaged up and back on your feet."

"B-But my feet," he answered. "T-They hurt. Why do they hurt?"

"It looks like you stepped on glass," Donna replied. "When you entered the ice-cream shop. You were running around with bare feet, embedding this glass into your feet, even deeper. It's a little stuck and I can see the clear shards, in this bloody mess called your foot."

"Oh," was the only answer the Doctor could give. Screwing his eyes shut, he fought against the throb of his feet and twisted in pain. He hated having things stuck in his feet. Similarly to a human's, his feet had a lot of nerve clusters in the soles, so it made it extremely painful when something got caught between the skin.

"Teaches you not to run around barefoot," Donna muttered.

"I had s-s-socks on," he protested.

"Socks don't provide protection, Time-boy," Donna exclaimed, irritably. A tear slid down his cheek and he bit his lip, trying to hold back the agony. Donna traced a loving hand across his cheek. "It's alright, Spaceman. I'm just worried. I'm not mad at you."

"His knees are a bit messed up," Wilf added. The Doctor turned to look at the man, who had become a fatherly figure to him. Wilf was clutching his chest, as if in pain, but trying to block it. "Son, did you kneel on the ground, as well? Because I see tiny bits of glass in your knees too."

"I-I w-was h-helping Winston," the Doctor defensively stated. He screwed his eyes shut, letting out another groan.

"I'll take that as a yes then," Wilf responded.

"W-Why am I not healing?" the Doctor gasped. His nails dug into the dirt and he jerked. "I-It hurts."

"We need to clean out the wounds first and get the glass out," Martha replied. "You can't heal until everything is cleaned up. If you do heal, then we will have to cut open the skin once more and pick out the shards. Just try to stay calm and hold back any urge to heal. I don't want to cause you anymore pain."

The Doctor's chest heaved, as seconds felt like hours. His agitated feet protested whenever he moved, they burned. He felt someone stroking his sideburns and his eyes squinted. The light was killing his eyes and all he wanted to do was sleep. Why couldn't he sleep? Because he might heal if he fell asleep and healing was a very bad idea indeed.

The sound of trucks pulling up, was followed by the presence of one of his friends, leaving his side. "UNIT's here," Martha announced. "And oh good, they brought my medical stuff. I couldn't trust the ambulance because if I asked for help, they would want to do their own procedures. They would have immediately found out you weren't human and would cart you off somewhere.." Martha's words seemed to fade out, as she grew farther away. The Doctor closed his eyes, only for a few seconds and the next thing he felt were a pair of muscular arms, picking him up like a rag doll and carrying him somewhere. The Doctor's eyes shot open in panic. He looked up to see a straight faced man in a red beret.

The man noticed the Doctor's brown eyes staring at him and he immediately smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor," the man greeted with respect. "I would salute, but my hands are a bit full." The Doctor nodded his head, before his head lolled against the man's chest and he blacked out once more.

His body thumped against a pad and he let out an involuntary groan.

"Be careful," Martha snapped. The Doctor heard her muttering to herself, before a sheepish apology came from the soldier. The Doctor heard the rustle of a bag being opened and the ground bending as somebody joined him. The Doctor's eyes opened slowly and he could see he was in a cave. Why was he in a cave?

"Martha," the Doctor slurred. His head span from the short travel and the new surroundings. His temple throbbed from the developing headache. "Why am I in a cave?"

"You're not in a cave, Doctor," Martha answered gently. He heard her rustling through a bag, metal hitting metal. The Doctor gulped, recognizing the sound. It was the same sound of tools, hitting the metal stand next to the autopsy table, in the Underground - Dr. Carter. The Doctor gulped and began struggling more, before a soft hand was placed on his shoulder. "You're in the back of a UNIT truck."

"Please," the Doctor begged. He was quite surprised that he began begging, but he was afraid to be cut open. "Please, don't cut me open. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I wasn't really mad at you - just startled."

"Doctor," Martha answered, worried. "I'm not going to cut you open. I just need to get the glass out of your legs and clean your wounds. You're safe." Martha's forehead wrinkled in worry. She had never heard the Doctor beg for his life before and she half wondered if he was at the mercy of a flashback.

He felt Donna's touch on his forehead and he immediately relaxed. Donna wouldn't let anyone hurt him. "Is he alright?" Donna asked. "Why haven't you started?"

"He just asked me not to cut him open," Martha muttered in shock. "He thought I was going to cut him open, as a punishment, for who knows what."

"They did that once," Donna sneered in disgust. "They were lucky I was in a cell because they would have received the oncoming Donna."

"That's awful," Martha exclaimed, horrified. Pulling out tweezers, bile rose in her throat. If she ever got the chance, she would find these people and make them pay. Normally, she was not a violent person, but inhumane and cruel people always made her temper flare. She remembered as a child, how she punched a boy for torturing a rat. The poor thing was squealing in fear, as the kid jabbed a stick at it. Always she had needed to protect the weak and heal them and she remembered how she cried when the rat died from shock. It died because some stupid boy tormented it. That is part of the reason why she became a doctor. She wanted to fix people and take away the pain. That is why she worked so hard in school and why she immediately took UNIT's offer. Countless times, she had mended an alien's broken bone, or cleaned out the wounds, caused by a crash landing. She hated suffering and it was time for her to fix the Doctor. Clearly, his legs were killing him and tending to them was the least she could do, since she had no idea how to heal a broken mind.

Holding the Doctor's legs in her lap, she soothingly whispered comforting words in his ear. She told him it would be alright. That she was going to remove the glass and clean out the wounds. That it might sting a bit, but afterwards it would heal nicely. The Doctor seemed to relax a bit more, closing his eyes at the soothing tempo. "Donna, I want you to hold him still," Martha stated. "You need to keep him calm. I don't want him to jerk in surprise, because it would cause more damage."

Donna held the Doctor close, keeping his arms away from Martha's work. He groaned and grunted, as each glass shard was moved individually. He buried his head into her lap. She heard the glass pinging against the steel pan, as Martha removed each one. She made it down to his feet and carefully cleaned the blood from them, after removing his socks. Wilf stood quietly, watching the bloody procedure. He did not move, or make a peep, except for the occasional comforting stroke to the Doctor's messy, brown hair. He watched in concern, wincing each time the Doctor whimpered.

Martha finished up the feet, only being kicked at a couple of times. Donna and Wilf had done an excellent job keeping the Doctor calm. She glanced out, watching the UNIT soldiers keep guard. Their eyes scanned for danger in the horizon. The one that had carried the Doctor in stood closely to the truck, occasionally taking a concerned glance in the Doctor's direction.

"Doctor, this is going to sting a bit," Martha warned. "I have to clean out the wounds and make sure they don't get an infection. I'm just warning you ahead of time, so you don't jump."

"G-Great," the Doctor grumbled, burying his head deeper into Donna's stomach. "J-Just g-g-get it o-over with."

It stung. It burned his flesh and made him involuntarily yelp in agony. It was worse than the glass, because now he had rubbing alcohol irritating his skin and wounds. It felt like when you cut your finger with a knife and accidentally squeeze lemon juice on it. Like acid, it ate away at the irritated and raw flesh, cleaning out the bacteria and dirt. Using a cloth, Martha cleaned out the dirt in the crevices of his skin, washing it away with sterilized liquid. He bled. He felt the needle dig into his flesh, closing up fresh wounds and the bleeding finally ceased.

"See," Donna encouraged. "It wasn't too bad." Her voice was strained, showing the worry she had felt. The Doctor could only glare. Covering his face, he heaved, a hiccup sob escaping him. Soft bandages were wrapped around his legs and feet, protecting the wounds from germs. Throughout, Donna stroked his head, comforting him.

Martha ripped off the last wrap, taping it down. "All done," she proclaimed. Packing away the medical supplies, she picked up the blood-covered blanket, putting it in a bag to be disposed of later.

"T-Thank you," the Doctor responded. He lifted his head, eyes wide and blinking as he took in the vehicle for the first time. Seats were lined up against the wall and at the far end a driver and passenger seat was facing the window. It was bleak. Empty, except for the bag, holding the blanket and Martha's medical kit inside. Donna sat behind him, with Wilf, standing outside the truck. He was gasping for breath and still clutching his stomach.

"You're welcome," Martha responded, before her attention landed on Wilf. "Wilf, I think you should sit down and let me check your abdomen. You were kicked pretty hard."

The Doctor's hearts dropped from guilt, watching the old man, who had shown him nothing but kindness. "Did I k-kick you?" the Doctor asked, bile tainting his lips. "I'm so sorry."

Wilf waved his hand, dismissively. "It takes a lot more to hurt these old bones."

"But, still-"

"Don't worry about it, Doctor. You were out of it and had no control over your movements."

"I still feel guilty..."

"Don't," Wilf simply stated. Climbing into the back of the truck, he sat down next to the Doctor and unbuttoned his shirt, to expose the bruise. "Take a look if you like, Dr. Jones," He stated with cheer. Martha prodded his chest, before handing him an ice-pack.

"Nothing much I could do anyways," Martha replied. "Just a bruise. You can use the ice pack to calm the swelling."

Wilf winked. "See nothin' to worry about. Just an insignificant bruise." The Doctor nodded, still obviously concerned.

Martha finished packing up her medical supplies, deciding she would sterilize them once she got back to UNIT. Glancing back at the Doctor, who was still in his shredded jeans, she sighed. "I guess we should find you different trousers then," she stated.

"And Wilf a new pair of socks," the Doctor muttered, glancing at the once black socks. "I'm really sorry about your socks."

Wilf snorted indifferently. "Don't give a damn about the socks. Just happy you're ok. I'll buy a new pair later." The Doctor nodded his head, before flushing with embarrassment.

"You know, Martha," the Doctor started. "A new pair of trousers would do wonders." Martha smiled, before leaping to her feet and jumping out of the truck. She made her way to one of the UNIT soldiers, asking for a fresh pair of trousers. The soldier wandered off to another truck in search for them. He came back moments later and handed Martha the sweats.

"I guess it is back to sweats again," she muttered to herself, before handing the Doctor them. The Doctor took them gratefully, all nausea and bad memories dispersing quickly. Donna held him up, helping him tug on the sweats. He fell back to the ground, the physical excursion exhausting him. His head lolled to the side.

Tires crunched the gravel, as a black van came into view. It parked next to the truck and the driver hopped out. A UNIT badge was situated on his uniform and sunglasses covered his eyes. The man chewed on a toothpick, as he rounded the truck to where Martha, Donna, the Doctor, and Wilf sat. He thrust a hand out and Martha immediately shook it.

"Name's William and I will be your designated driver, today," he greeted. "You must be Dr. Martha Jones."

"That I am," She replied, hopping out of the vehicle. She helped the Doctor out next and he heavily leaned against her side. Donna took his other side, helping him stand straight as his legs wobbled. "These three need a ride down to Cardiff to meet a friend."

"These three?" Donna questioned. Martha nodded her head.

"I'm heading back to UNIT, to check on the ultrasound results," Martha replied. "They have not called, yet. But I should be in the labs when they find something. They had to have found something by now." The Doctor gave her a strained concern look and Martha patted him on the cheek, before wrapping her arms around him. "Don't worry. You'll see me when you get back. I expect to see Jack, too - haven't seen that flirt for a while. Maybe when this is all said and done, we'll have tea and a catch-up."

"I'd like that," Donna replied. She stood up straighter and immediately took charge of the situation. "Doctor, Gramps we're heading to Cardiff. Come along, I want to get home by midnight. It's a two hour drive there and back. It is three now. I think we can deem it possible." She marched down to the van with the Doctor in her arms, waving goodbye to Martha. Wilf followed, as well as William. He quickly got into the front seat, waiting for the other three passengers. The Doctor halted to a stop, his eyes widening.

"We should really let Sylvia know what is going on," Wilf exclaimed. "I don't feel like getting a mouth full of nagging. I don't want your mother to worry."

"We'll call her when we start the journey to Cardiff," Donna grumbled. "Spaceman, what's wrong? Why did you stop?"

The Doctor didn't answer. He just stood stalk-still, staring at the van. "The.. the van, it's black."

Donna moaned. This was going to be a very long drive. She could already tell.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that chapter. The drive to Cardiff is next and following that is the reintroduction of Captain Jack Harkness! Yay! Well, I still need to figure out how to squeeze a couple more characters into this story. I hope you are all enjoying and will keep reading. I love reviews! So, please review.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks for the reviews! I want to greatly thank thisdayandage for smoothing out this chapter and giving me helpful advice. I hope you keep reading and reviewing! Here's chapter 22.**

Chapter 22

"William! Pull over," Donna shouted. The Doctor's head was resting on her shoulder, as the van sped down the motorway. His face was a light shade of green and his lips were puckered, as if ready to puke. A long moan gurgled up his throat.

"I can't," William stated, calmly. "There is nowhere to pullover. I'll take the next exit and pull into a car park." Continuing to drive, he kept checking the backseat, where the Doctor laid sprawled across Donna's lap. This was the fifth time, since their journey had started, that they had pulled over. The first time, the Doctor had a panic attack, when they drove over a bump. William ran a hand through his short-cut hairstyle, obviously stressed, with the outcome of this drive and the sick passenger in the back seat. Slowly, Donna stroked the Doctor's hair back. Another sick groan squeezed past his lips.

It had been quite the challenge getting the Doctor into the van. Initially, he had refused to budge from his spot outside it, complaining he did not know the driver, or where the driver intended to take him. She and Wilf had to patiently wait for him to settle his nerves, explaining to him that everything was going to be fine. She remembered the words she murmured into his ears, as she assured him that she wasn't going to let anything happen to him. Inside, she felt the pressure of time beating down on her, yelling at her to move. Donna grew impatient, as the voice grew louder, and for some reason that angered her. She wanted to protect her family and yet she had no idea what she was protecting them from. Her thoughts differed from the words she spoke to the Doctor. She was frustrated with him, questioning his status as a Time Lord and his ability, comparing him to how he was before. Her thoughts made her a traitor to her words.

She watched Wilf firmly grip the Doctor's arm, strengthening him with his firm, kind words. She felt jealous. She was crumbling too, failing, and she couldn't help but blame him for getting her into this mess, and she was not referring to this mysterious phenomenon. Oh no, she found herself blaming him for the Underground. Inside, she seethed, while outside she comforted. She seemed to snap out of her angered-fueled hate,when he voiced his fears. She immediately felt guilty for her corrupt, traitorous thoughts. The Doctor had suffered far more than she had, and she was angry at him for something he had no control over. The color visibly drained from her cheeks, when she realized she was behaving just like the people, who worked at the Underground. Using her friend as a scapegoat, for her own misfortunes and frustrations. Right there, she realized she was not the same person anymore. She had changed and not for the better. Her thoughts and distrust had betrayed her words. She held the Doctor closer, not wanting to let go. She was afraid to fall.

Because, the driver wore sunglasses and chewed on a toothpick, the Doctor viewed William as a danger and struggled with himself, as dark and tormenting thoughts pummeled his soul, when it came time to get in the van. This ultimately ended in him collapsing to the floor and howling in pain, as agony seared through his legs. The wounds had not quite started the healing process. Banging the fresh, bandaged injuries was painful enough. But, Donna, as she kneeled next to him, couldn't help but wonder if his leg was not what was bothering him. He clutched his head, fingertips digging into his scalp. It ended in William running to his rescue and trying to help him back up. Even then, the Doctor was still mildly distrusting, until Will took off his glasses and gave a nonthreatening smile. By telling the alien a bit about himself, in the process, he was able to gain some of the Doctor's trust. Assisting the Doctor's hobble to the van, he helped the Time Lord in, before helping both Donna and Wilf afterwards. Donna would be eternally thankful to Will's small gesture of compassion, because she knew that her and Wilf would have never gotten the Doctor into the van willingly. With a slam of the door, he started their small journey to Cardiff. Already, they had made quite a few stops along the way.

The Doctor let out another moan, curling up in the seat. William glanced back, switched on his indicator and took the next exit. "Hey Doctor," William announced. "We're going to stop now, buddy. You can take a breather in just a few seconds. Just hold in your sick, alright?" The Doctor nodded his head, before tucking it back underneath Donna's chin.

"You've never gotten motion sickness before, Spaceman," Donna noted. "Is everything alright? This is the fifth time we've stopped."

"Just, bad memories," the Doctor vaguely stated. "I don't like being in this car." Clutching at his stomach, bile rose in his throat. Sharply, William pulled off the road, quickly parking.

"Go on," he encouraged. "Jump out and do what you need to do." They had pulled into a petrol station and he was pulling out change. "I'm just going to fill the tank, while you're out." Popping out of the car, he headed towards the little shop.

During the drive, Wilf had not spoken much at all. He had, a few times, murmured comforting words to the sickly Time Lord.

"Come on then," Donna exclaimed. "Out we go. No need to throw up in the car. We'll just head over to those bushes, or find a bathroom." As she pulled the Doctor out from the car, his knees wobbled and his hands remained clutched to his abdomen. His face was pale, darkening the freckles across his nose. Wilf hopped out next and stood on the Doctor's other side, opposite of Donna. Together, Wilf and Donna led him towards the bushes.

Doubling over, the Doctor immediately released all the content in his stomach. Hands shaking, he squeezed his eyes shut, from the physical and mental pain, vomiting had on him. Gently, Donna rubbed his back, as he dropped to his knees. She ignored the bystanders, who shot disgusted looks and snide comments. People sometimes shocked her, with their attitude. Because she knew if she had been the one to witness a poor man's sickness, she would approach him and ask if he was alright.

After a few more dry heaves, the Doctor wiped at his mouth, coughing. Tears prickled at his eyes and his muscles were in spasm, from the pain of throwing up. She handed him a bottle of water.

"There you go, Spaceman," she offered. "How 'bout you rinse out that awful taste and we'll hit the road again."

Nodding, he accepted the water bottle. "Thank you," he hoarsely stated. Taking a swig, he swished it around his mouth, before spitting it out. Afterwards, he took a longer sip, calming his irritated stomach. "I don't like cars," he commented.

"I know," Donna sympathized. "But you're just going to have to bear with us. We have about an hour or so to go and then we can take a nice, long break. Isn't that right Gramps?"

"Yep," Wilf agreed. " Once we get to Cardiff, we don't have to hop back into the car right away. We can take an hour or two to relax, meet with this Jack fellow, before heading back home."

"But the mystery-" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Will still be there," Donna finished. "Come on, Spaceman. Let's walk off the sickness. Get some fresh air, before we get back in the car. Will said to take as long as we want."

In agreement, the Doctor nodded his head, allowing Donna to take him by the arm and lead him about the petrol station.

To be honest, she felt a bit queasy herself. She, too, suffered from the Underground nightmare. Seeing the van had unlocked some of her own bad memories. The only reason she was able to step inside that van, was her unfaltering belief that she had to be strong for the Doctor. If she crumbled, he would surely shatter and the pieces would never be put back in place. She could not let that happen. As much as the Doctor wanted to deny it, the universe did need him. She needed him. Her mind wandered back to the rocky start of their trip, remembering the thoughts, that should not have been her own, yet were. Her eyes lowered in shame, before brushing away the memory. She could never think badly of the Doctor, no matter how frustrating he could be at times.

They strolled around the petrol station. The Doctor clutched his side, halting every few steps. Breathing heavily, he leant on his knees, before continuing their walk. When the Doctor started to wobble, from an imbalance of his equilibrium, Wilf clutched his elbow. His head swam and the world blurred. Gulping in air, the Doctor was huffing out heavy breaths.

Bystanders stood around the station, they watched the odd trio. Some provided sympathetic looks to the supposedly young man, while those, who were not so kind, grimaced in disgust at the murky dribble that slid down the man's chin. All could tell he was unwell and a bit carsick. Donna glared at them. She hated when people stood and gawked, especially over something they could easily offer assistance to. Sometimes her species truly annoyed her. Her eyes met with each and every person. Puffing out her chest, she glared, showing off her more intimidating side.

"What are you staring at?!" she blustered, stomping her foot. "He doesn't need an audience! If you have something to say, say it! Other than that, go back to what you were doing and leave us in peace!" The bystanders shame-facedly turned away from the ginger's tirade. They went back to what they were originally doing, before the strange group arrived.

"Donna," the Doctor whispered softly. "You didn't have to be rude."

"You didn't need any bloody idiots gawking at you," Donna shot back. "I was trying to protect your dignity."

The Doctor nodded, glaring at the ground. "I guess," he replied, indifferently. They continued their hobbled walk.

"Son, you've got a bit of dribble on your chin," Wilf stated, gently. He pulled out a handkerchief, from his pocket, handing it to him. The Doctor, promptly, wiped his chin clean. A blush shaded his cheeks. Handing it back, he continued his sluggish steps. Being out had alleviated the sick feeling in his guts. The fresh air had expanded his lungs, which had contracted during their drive, until they were a pathetic shriveled pair. Overall, he felt much better. Glancing at the van, dread fell heavy on his two hearts. The van had simultaneously made him sick, as well as paranoid and he did not want to continue their endeavor, but he knew he had no choice. The Human race's safety rested on his skinny shoulders. No breaks were allowed to the Time Lord.

* * *

Awkwardly, William stood next to the van, as he waited for the trio to return. He watched as the alien in their company stumbled about, with Ms. Noble holding him by the arm. The elderly gentleman followed closely behind. Whatever had happened to the alien was unknown to him, but with that haunted and fearful look he had given him, he knew whatever happened must have been terrible. Why UNIT had so much respect for the Doctor, he could not yet understand. All he saw was a broken man, unsure about his status in the universe.

It was a terrible feeling, to be unsure. William, himself, had always felt a bit unsure about his own identity. With bickering parents and a divorce that followed, he never had the greatest childhood. It had led into many poor decisions on his part. Even today, he still suffered from them. Smoking was an extreme hindrance to himself. Every time he found himself close to quitting, a new stress would befall him. The recognizable craving always returned - especially now. The hour ride in the van, with the panicked alien, had tested his self-control. The need for one of those precious stress reducers was itching at him. Instead, he bought a pack of gum. Popping four pieces into his mouth, he hoped to diminish, or at least settle, the demanding and desperate voice in his head.

He jumped to alert, when the alien in question tumbled to the ground, clutching his stomach. He was about to make headway towards the small group, until he noticed the Doctor rising to his feet, once more. A hand was pressed to his temple and a very dizzied and confused look, graced his features. Ms. Noble quickly tended and checked over the man, before concluding he was okay. He watched as the fiery red head, turned to Mr. Mott and with a wave of her hand and quick rapid words, asked something he could not cipher. Sometimes, he wished he could read lips. But alas, he was at the bottom of the UNIT pyramid, meaning he was the taxi driver with no training whatsoever. This, he decided, was what happened when he never pursued or fought for anything in his life. A bum, with a meager salary and a bad smoking habit, was all he was. Sighing, he brushed a hand through his hair and re-situated his sunglasses.

As he glanced in the van mirror, Will thought about the glasses and how terrified the alien, or the Doctor, was of him. He had done nothing malicious, but the simple reaction led him to believe that something in the terms of abuse may have happened to the bean-pole. He knew a guy once, whose father was an abusive alcoholic, although he had never admitted to it. The kid was similarly jumpy. The only difference was that the kid possessed a multitude of scars and bruises. This alien seemed pretty clear of any. William shrugged his shoulders. What did he know? He had just recently learned about life on other planets, since UNIT's recruitment. And through other UNIT employees had learned about the Doctor – though, mostly by gossip.

He had heard what a great man the Doctor was. This powerful extraterrestrial had once been a scientific adviser to UNIT. He had stood tall, next to the legendary Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, both fighting the terrifying alien forces and returning home in time for tea. A being, from a powerful race, to which Time and Space was their playground. But what William saw, was not what every UNIT soldier described. He saw a broken, hollow man, afraid of his own shadow. No powerful alien in sight.

Jauntily, Mr. Mott approached him, cellphone in hand. Leaning against the van, a warm smile spread across his face, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Have to make a call," he established, conversationally. "Forgot to call my daughter about our little adventure. She's probably worried sick at the moment. Luckily, Donna reminded me. This old memory isn't the same as it used to be." He began to dial the number, placing the phone to his ear.

"Do you need privacy, Mr. Mott?" William asked, getting ready to stride away. A careful, nimble hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Nonsense, my boy, you were here first," Wilf exclaimed, cheerfully. "And formality is unneeded among friends. You may call me Wilf."

William rolled his eyes at the chipper old man, resuming his spot, propped up against the van. The phone rang four times, before a dull 'hello' greeted them on the other end. Ms. Noble, or Donna or whatever she preferred to be called, approached the van with the Doctor in hand. His face still was a light tint of green, but he appeared much healthier and happier after taking a break.

"I think it's time to leave," Donna announced. "The Doctor's had enough fresh air and I believe the petrol fumes are getting to him."

"I can speak for myself, you know," the Doctor muttered. "I am still capable of speaking and thinking for myself."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Fine. What do you want to do, Mr. Grumpy-face?" The Doctor scowled and sniffed, with indignation.

"Well, you already said it," he exclaimed. "Why repeat it. It's a waste of air." Sliding open the door, he clambered inside. Donna climbed in next to him, grumbling sarcastic retorts. William rolled his eyes. Another thing he could not understand about these two. For adults, they sure behaved like bickering children, or even an old married couple. He honestly could not understand the pair, or their relationship.

"Quiet, you two," Wilf hissed. "I'm trying to speak with your mother."

"Not my mother," the Doctor informed him, flopping back against the seat. "Only Donna's."

"He knows that, you prawn," Donna retorted, with a huff.

Wilf shook his head and turned his attention back to Sylvia. "It's alright, sweetheart. We're half way to Cardiff at the moment..."

"_Cardiff!"_ Sylvia shrieked on the other end. "_Why are you going to bloody Cardiff?! Where's the Doctor?! He better be with you. The poor man has just recently left the house and you're carting him off to Cardiff! That's hours away from home! He's not ready yet, and he's still ill!"_

"Sylvia, calm down," Wilf attempted to calm his enraged daughter. He knew her reaction was only caused by the concern she felt for the Doctor, but sometimes she could really try his patience.

"_Don't tell me to calm down, Dad! You just happened to forget to inform me about this little journey. Now the Doctor is outside, far away and there are dangerous earthquakes happening! What if he gets scared?! What if he gets hurt?! He won't be near his room, if he needs to calm down and take a nap! What if he has a flashback?! You know how dangerous those are and people may react the wrong way! This is foolish and I can't believe you and Donna agreed to do this to him!" _There was an indignant scoff on the other end. Wilf rubbed his forehead, a headache slowly forming. "_I bet it was that Martha girl. Probably came in, sweet talked him, Donna, and you and convinced him to go out too early!"_

"Sylvia!" Wilf exclaimed, anger evident in his voice. "Do not disgrace Martha. She is a wonderful girl, who was looking out for the Doctor. It was, unfortunately, a bad day to take him out. But, none the less, she cares about him. Please respect her, as I respect her. As for your other questions, the Doctor is with me and Donna and he is doing fine. If there are any struggles, we can handle them along the way. He chose to go to Cardiff."

"_He what?!"_

"Like I said, he chose to go to Cardiff. He has a friend down there that can help with the Earthquakes." Wilf furrowed his brow. "I'm actually surprised I got a hold of you after the quake. Some of the phone lines were knocked down."

"_The Doctor was fixing our phones and connections. He told me he gave it a super connection. Said it would make sure we could contact anyone, even if phone lines were down."_

"Oh," Wilf responded, shooting a quick glance in the Time Lord's direction. Both him and Donna were being especially quiet - no doubt, eavesdropping into the conversation. William had gotten back into the driver's seat and was leaning back. "Were you affected by the quake? Is the house still there?"

There was a short pause, as if Sylvia was collecting her thoughts. "_It's weird,"_ Sylvia began. "_It's as if the earthquake was far away, not a few blocks down. I didn't get the brunt of it. Nothing was broken. I went inside to get a glass of water when it happened, but all it did was shake me about and break a few things. Other than that, nothing happened. I didn't even know the park or the downtown area was destroyed, until I switched on the telly and news reports were broadcasting on every channel. I knew you four were down there and immediately panicked. Didn't know you had left the scene without even offering reassurance." _Bitterness obviously in her tone.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Wilf apologized.

"_Oh, never mind that,"_ She indifferently proclaimed. "_Give the phone to the Doctor. I want to speak to him and then I'm going to speak to Donna. Make sure the two of them are okay, before I end this conversation."_

"Right you are," Wilf agreed. Getting himself into the front seat of the car, he gave William the go ahead. The driver ignited the engine and it rumbled to life. Switching on his indicator, he turned out of the petrol station and drove down the road. He hummed gently. "Here's the Doctor," Wilf announced, before handing the phone to the tall, skinny alien. "It's for you, son."

"Hello," the Doctor timidly answered. He was never sure what to expect from Sylvia. She could be quite unpredictable sometimes. And the human's rapid change in emotions confused him. Sometimes she could be horrid and controlling, while other times she was motherly and gentle. Was he in trouble? Deep down, he hoped not. His emotions were frayed and he did not need someone nagging at him.

"_Doctor, sweetheart, is everything alright?"_ The flood of motherly concern hit him like a wave and he did not know how to respond. "_Have you had any flashbacks? Panic attacks? Do you need to come home? I knew it was too soon for you to go out. You should have stayed in a bit longer." _Still, the Doctor did not know how to react to this new wave of panicked questions and worried comments. He had never had such motherly attention before, well, at least since he was a child. And he never thought that Sylvia would be able to provide that. But, she seemed genuinely concern about him. "_Oh, God, have you had anything to eat since lunch?!" _The Doctor shook his head, before realizing she could not see him.

"N-No," he replied, feeling his stomach growl at the mention of lunch.

"_You have not eaten since," _Sylvia shrilled with anger. "_I want you to stop at the next restaurant and grab a bite to eat right away, Mister. I see what happens when I'm not there. You don't eat and I want to make sure you have something in your stomach."_

"To be fair, Sylvia, I sort of forgot to eat, with my episode and injuries that occurred." Silence met him once again. Oh, he should not have mentioned that.

"_How injured are you?" _Sylvia hissed down the other end.

"Just my legs," the Doctor replied. "Don't worry. Martha fixed them."

"_Don't worry! Don't worry? You were hurt and I wasn't there to make sure you were okay! You could have died. No, I want you to come back to Chiswick right now. I need to make sure everything is alright. Are you limping? Do you need crutches...or even a wheelchair? I have a wheelchair in the garage that my Mum used, before she died. You don't have to use your legs if you don't want to. When you come home, I'll make you soup and put on a movie. You have had enough of an adventure for one day, Mister. I want to make sure you are fine and rested."_

"N-No," the Doctor replied, firmly.

"_Excuse me?"_

"No," The Doctor repeated. "I can't leave now. I need to find Jack and ask for his help. Any rest will have to wait. Earth needs to be protected and to do so, she needs me. I will come home around midnight and I promise I will eat, but I am not leaving. I need to see this through, even if my legs are hurting."

"_But Doctor..."_

"Please Sylvia, trust my judgment," the Doctor answered. "I know what I'm doing and I promise I'll be back in one piece and when I am back I will rest and you can feed me as much soup as you want. But, for now, I need to do this. For myself and for Earth. I won't overexert myself, alright?"

"_Promise."_

"I promise." The Doctor crossed his hearts and raised two fingers. A heavy sigh was heard on the other end.

"_Alright then, give the phone to Donna. I need to talk to my daughter."_

The Doctor nodded his head, before scrunching his eyebrows, as an afterthought came to him. "Oh, Sylvia, I suggest you stay inside."

"_Why?"_

"I don't know. Just stay inside, until I find out what is going on. Promise me?"

"_I wasn't planning on going out after that quake. It shook me up a bit, but luckily it did not reach our neighborhood. A few things are broken, but no one was hurt. Now, give the phone to Donna."_

The Doctor handed the phone to Donna and mouthed something to her that Donna could not understand. She shook her head at the ridiculous miming and held the phone to her ear, readying for the inevitable tirade.

"Mum?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"_Make sure he eats,_" Sylvia exclaimed on the other end. "_And check those wounds hourly. I don't want him to get an infection, on top of his injuries, Madame. Just keep him safe and you better stay safe too. I don't need to take care of two injured and sick people. One's enough."_

"Thanks Mum. Glad you're concerned about my safety," Donna replied, sarcastically.

"_I am," _Sylvia shot back. "_And I don't need any lip from you, Madame. You just better keep safe and not get in a crash. I'll see you in early morning."_

"You don't have to stay up for us," Donna replied.

"_Well I am. I'm not going back to bed, until my family is safe under this roof and that includes the Doctor."_

Donna's heart softened and a small smile graced her lips. She could not believe what she had heard. Glancing at the Doctor, she saw how a smile lit his face as well. Obviously, he had heard what she said and the joy was bubbling over. "I love you, Mum," she whispered, for the first time in a long time. To hear her Mum acknowledge her and the Doctor as family had made her happier than she had felt in a long time. She could not believe she had said it. Her Mum was as cold as rock and this simple act of calling the Doctor family, just showed how the Doctor wheedled his way into all of their hearts.

"_I love you too," _Sylvia replied, self-consciously. "_I've got to go. Just make sure the Doctor is fed. He's skinny enough and doesn't need to be a bag of bones."_

"Alright," Donna agreed. The click on the other end ended the call and Donna leaned back. One thing for sure, was that she did not expect the conversation to end that way. She looked at the Doctor and then at Gramps, before her gaze landed on William.

"William, do you think we can stop and grab a bite to eat?" Donna questioned. "Everyone's a bit knackered and food would do the trick. Besides.." Donna gave the Doctor a playful shove. "This one doesn't need to get any skinnier. He's already a twig - doesn't need to be a toothpick next."

"I'm not a twig," The Doctor exclaimed, with mock indignation and a playful wink.

"No," Donna teased. "Is that so? So, if I sat on you, you wouldn't snap in two?"

The Doctor was about to reply, but William jumped in before him. "Yeah, we can stop off to grab a bite to eat. After that, it's back on the road." The three nodded and William turned into the nearest restaurant, stopping for the sixth time.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. Next chapter will have Jack! Keep reading and reviewing! I greatly appreciate it. :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter. :) I really want to thank thisdayandage for helping me with this chapter. Describing the Torchwood hub had proven to be difficult and she helped me a lot with figuring it out and how to describe. So, thank you so much for being a fantastic proofreader. I fully appreciate it. :)To everyone else, please review and let me know what you think and I will message you!**

Chapter 23

Feet propped up on the main desk, Jack was leaning back in the chair. One hand boasted a mug of coffee, as the other rapidly typed in codes, checking the rift and its activity. It had been quiet, as of lately. Nothing much had happened in Cardiff, except for the few tiny trembles below ground. Not before long, he had dismissed them, as ordinary, natural seismic activity. However, he had since heard reports of what these quakes had done to London. Subconsciously, he made a decision to keep an eye out for anything strange going on. Jack took a sip of his cold, stagnated coffee, grimacing against the syrupy taste it had. He stared at into the liquid for a moment. Then, regrettably, he took another gulp.

Placing the mug aside, on the desk, he gave his limbs a stretch and grunted. Returning to his slouched posture, he watched the rift monitor, lazily. He was alone in the hub. Because there was not much going on, he had sent his team home. The rift had not expelled anything deeming dangerous to Earth. Nor had any weevils attacked harmless bystanders, or caused mayhem in the sewers. The rift was channeling through a quiet cycle. It occurred every once in a while. Nothing was happening and that made the Captain bored.

The thought of heading to the local pub, crossed his mind. At least then he could meet a few people, a little more intimately. Maybe have a few drinks while he's at it. He had not been down to the nearby pub, for a while - a week or two, at least. Fernando and Rita, the bartenders would be missing him, he was sure. Jack fumbled with the idea, sucking on his cheek, blue eyes staring at the ceiling. He sighed. No, he should stay here. He knew that as soon as he left, with no one monitoring the rift activities, something terrible and dangerous would, no doubt, make itself known. He would not be there to contain or capture it. Guess he was stuck here then, while Ianto and Gwen had their fun.

Jack stood up, stretching once more, before grabbing his mug. He pushed the chair away from the rift monitor. Casually, he sauntered towards the stairs. Hopping up them, two at a time, he entered his own office. A round desk sat in the middle, with knick-knacks and personal items covering it. He closed the door, before falling into his chair, taking another sip of coffee and again grimacing from the cold taste. For a while, he sat, spinning absently, in his chair. It was an old, rickety chair. Just about everything in his office looked old and antique, besides the small computer in the corner and the odd bits of alien tech, that laid discarded, or cluttering the shelves. He eyed the computer, before going back to his bored and lonely thoughts.

Gwen was probably somewhere with Rhys, doing who knows what. Probably having a blast, while he was here bored, with nothing to do. Well, if he felt up to it, he could start on the paperwork that needed to be read through and typed out. Slowly, the Captain's eyes turned to the stack of growing paperwork in the corner of his office. It was at least a couple of feet high, maybe more. Each one held information about an artifact found or a new alien discovered.

"Nope," Jack said to himself. "Not happening." He turned away, in an effort to convince himself that if he did not look at them, the files might just disappear.

Even after centuries of being immortal, paperwork still had no appeal to him. Not that it ever would. Like him, the Doctor was not keen on filling out paperwork either. Said it took too much time and effort, when he could be saving lives. However, the Doctor had figured out a way to avoid doing paperwork all together. The trick was leave, before anyone noticed he was gone.

Jack smiled fondly at the thoughts of the Time Lord, who had become so much a part of his life. Before, he had been nothing but a selfish con-man, who only helped himself. During his time at the Time Agency, he had abused his ability to time travel for personal gain. It was not until he met and spent time with the Doctor that his life made a complete hundred and eighty degree turn and he found himself immortal and a protector of Earth. The Doctor had helped him a lot. There was not a day that passed when he did not miss the alien, who changed his life. The last time he saw the Doctor was after the Year That Never Was and he had left quickly, ready to see his team. Yes, he tried to keep track of the two-hearted alien, but if the Doctor did not want to be followed, the feat was near impossible.

Finally, giving into the computer that sat on the right side of his wall, Jack stood up. He fell into the second chair that was situated in the middle of the room. He spun over to the computer, bumping into the desk, before pulling up some sites, as well as footage and the Seismometer that he had placed on his computer. The seismometer was a part of the Rift manipulator's mainframe. With some futuristic, 51st century tech skills, Jack had figured out a way to get readings from his little office computer. This proved useful, when he wanted to be alone, but needed to check up on things. He had made it a habit to watch the seismometer after the first earthquake that had shaken up parts of Great Britain, including Wales.

Instead of looking at the seismometer, he decided that browsing the net was the best option. He was bored and he hoped he could battle off his boredom, by finding something of interest on the news. Pressing a couple more buttons on the keyboard, Jack loaded up the news for today. Normally, he would be the one for action flicks. Since he was on duty, he might as well find something of importance and possibly disastrous to Cardiff, or the world. The news was the easiest place to look. Clicking another button, a live feed came through.

"_Devastation has befallen the downtown area of Chiswick, this afternoon," _The news reporter announced. Her red lips pouted, as she relayed the news. Snippets of the quake were explained. How it only happened in one area and the other parts of Chiswick seemed unharmed, except a bit shaken up. How no harm came to the inner-city of London, nor any other surrounding town. Footage of the trashed park was shown. Buildings had crumbled and mothers held their children closely, in shock. Jack's brows furrowed, as his eyes took in the information. Ruffling his hair back, he scratched at his neck. The reporter continued on, stating that she had not received all the information yet, but there would be live updates as the story progressed. "_Something strange has happened," _the news reporter disclosed. "_And the information shown has proven that it is not your average quake. What is it? And will it be __stopped? This is Barbra Millson, from Channel Four News." _The live broadcast switched off, turning into menial commercials of little value, but Jack ignored the change in transmission. He had activated the quake monitors that he had put in place. Fingers quickly gliding over the keyboard, he pulled up more readings from the seismograph.

3D pictures popped up. Jack leant in closer, reading the measurements and the recordings that were made on the earthquake. From the new information, he had learned that the earthquake was rather controlled in one specific epicentre, a Chiswick park. Its length stretched, but its width was no bigger than around twenty feet. It had caused more damage as it moved forward, underneath the buildings. The screen was black, highlighting the area, with a few colorful spots representing human life. In a 3D red wave, the earthquake rippled underneath the city, with blue streaks that represented...actually Jack didn't know what the blue represented. He leaned in closer, eyes squinting, in an attempt to distinguish the new find. It was long and thick, that's for sure and it was beneath the wave. For the life of him, Jack could not discern this strange blue streak, but he saw how it was pulsing, breathing, growing. It was not from this world. An exasperated hand slid down his face, as he puffed out a heavy sigh.

"Another day in Torchwood," he muttered. Not wanting to call up and disturb his team, his thoughts rummaged with the idea of dealing with the issue himself. Gwen and Ianto were in need of a well-deserved break, which had been coming for a very long time. The last massive issue had involved a group of Weevils on a hunt for food and Ianto had very nearly been killed. Jack could not bear the thought of dragging them back in on another mystery, caused by an outer-space boogie man, thing, he could not even put a name to. Ultimately, he made the choice to leave them alone for the time being. If the issue got worse, he would call them up and tell them everything he had found. Getting up, he decided he would go to Chiswick, do his own investigations. Once he had all the information, he could form a complete plan. He would also call up Martha. Martha had been sending him information about the recent and strange deaths of a few people. Together, they had been working hard to connect the dots. After spotting the energy surges, Jack wondered if he had found the answer.

Throwing on his blue World War Two, captain's trench-coat, Jack packed a few needed items into his pockets. Pulling on his black boots, he was about to head-out, when the alarm system went off, warning him to an intruder. Bolting back to the computer, he hastily tapped in keywords, unlocking the security footage. The surveillance system revealed a ginger woman had used the main entrance, the Information kiosk that was normally run by Ianto, to get into the Torchwood base. How she was able to get through, Jack had no clue. It was a tricky piece of security, where the wall opens up and the intruder would have to get through a multitude of coded doors, before even getting to the hub. But this woman had made it through, seemingly with ease, based on her relaxed stance. This made her a dangerous threat to Torchwood. Her hands were in her pockets, eyes searching, as if looking for something specific, or someone. Intently, she glanced behind her, towards the large open door. It was as though she were checking if someone were following her lead. With her hands, she gestured a 'come on' indication. When the accomplice failed to step forth, she threw her hands up in exasperation. Rolling her eyes, she stomped back into the doorway. Now her guard was down, it was his opportunity. Jack leapt out of his chair, drawing his gun. Speed on his side, he headed towards the main hub area, to deal with the woman and her mysterious companion.

* * *

"Come on, Doctor," Donna encouraged, despite nearing the end of her tether. The Doctor was pressed up against the far wall of the room, suspicious eyes watching the entrance to the hub. "It's safe. Jack is here and we can easily explain to him why we're here and need help. Everything will be fine."

"But, the walls – they're so white, or at least, somewhat white," The Doctor replied, as if his answer was the most reasonable answer in the world.

Donna rolled her eyes again. "Doctor, you've got to get your colours straight! Any sane person would see that it is greyish in colour-" She glanced around her, evaluating the hub. "And looks like a high-tech sewer." Her gaze settled on the Doctor once more, but as always the Doctor behaved stubbornly, doing the opposite of what she wanted.

"Well, grey has white," He pitifully justified, with a petulant huff.

"As well as black," Donna shot back. "You're just being ridiculous now. Just trust me for once." But the Doctor would not relent.

"And it's beneath the surface," the Doctor added, trying to make his arguments against the Torchwood hub sound reasonable. "Just like the Underground. Torchwood used to be evil - still is, well at least Torchwood one and two. What if they want me?! I am an enemy of the crown. They set up this place to protect Great Britain from me. They could ambush us, take me away and retcon you - or worse, kill you!"

"Doctor," Donna stated, calmly. "This is Torchwood three. They don't follow the same protocols, as the original Torchwood. Besides, Jack runs it. He would never let anyone hurt you."

Sharply, the Doctor shook his head. His mistrustful eyes gazed into the room that screamed secret 'government base'. A staircase was located to the side of the room, which led up to a platform that held a large computer base. Above it, there were a few more rooms. Another staircase led down to a room the Doctor did not know about and would rather not get acquainted with. He sniffed the air, sensing chemicals and knowing full well that was most likely an autopsy room. Another hall, to his left seemed to have doors on either side, possibly rooms. So many rooms - just like the Underground. The Doctor involuntarily shivered, rubbing his arms in comfort. Sensibly, he reasoned with himself. Jack was his friend, who had saved him and everything. But, then again, Torchwood had a way of corrupting the mind of unwillingly seeing the person beneath the alien skin. Yes, the Torchwood he had met in 2015 was different, but he could not be sure what this Torchwood would be like, even if Jack worked there.

"Donna, I can't," the Doctor whispered. "Maybe, this was a bad idea."

"No," Donna sighed, feeling slightly defeated. She had false hope that she would see him, marching out, with his head held high. But, that was only hope, not any kind of actuality. "I think it is a brilliant idea. Jack will be able to help us. He has the team and he has the equipment. Plus, He's been conversing with Martha, trying to make sense out of this chaos. He also needs to know what happened."

"What do you mean, _happened_?" the Doctor questioned. "He already knows about the earthquake-"

"To you," Donna interrupted. "He needs to know what happened to you. He asked me, in the future, to tell him what happened, or as much as the universe and Time would allow."

"We're crossing his timelines, doing this," the Doctor argued. "We can't let him know what happens in his future. It could be catastrophic. If the Time Lords were still around, I would be sentenced to a forced regeneration, because I would be breaking laws set in place. There are many things I am willing to do, but sometimes crossing another person's timeline is not the best choice."

"What part of being vague didn't you understand?" Donna exclaimed, hands on hips. "I'm not going to tell him much, just let him in on the situation. That is what he asked for and I promised. Would that cause a catastrophic paradox?"

"I guess not," the Doctor replied, lips puckered in a pout and eyebrows furrowed.

"Would it be safe?"

"If you didn't tell him much," the Doctor insisted. "Didn't alert him to the date, time, or place of my inevitable kidnapping."

"Then what is the big issue?"

For a second, the Doctor paused, nervously rubbing his arm. His eyes focused on the far wall and the irrelevant spot that sat upon it. Crossing her arms, Donna gazed intently at the Time Lord. She was expecting an answer, and in her defense she did deserve an answer. The Doctor sighed, defeated. His shoulders slouched. "I just don't want anyone else to see how pathetic and weak I am," the Doctor confessed. "I am a disgrace to the Time Lord name and don't deserve to be in the presence of friends. They shouldn't see me like this. You shouldn't see me like this." The Doctor whispered the last part, voice small and broken.

"Oh, Spaceman," compassion seeped from her voice. The impenetrable shield stance she had been maintaining, up until now, broke away, as she dropped her arms. She moved forward. He turned his gaze away, ashamed. "I-" Nothing could be said. A broken man stood in front of her, bearing his hearts and she had nothing to say. In fact, she had no clue what to say. Normally, she could tell him exactly the right thing at the right time. But both had been given a terrible blow. A blow that was much harder to heal from. It had dented their confidence and Donna could say nothing to the Doctor. How could she tell him it would get better, when she did not know for sure? To her, it felt like nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing _would_ ever be the same again. Now she was broken, all confidence shattered and he was too. "I-"She tried again.

"Put your hands in the air," a familiar American accent ordered. The click of safety going off hit her ears and she raised her hands. "Don't move, Gorgeous. I am not afraid to shoot." She heard steps, cautiously approaching. "I don't know what your game is, or how you did it, but you have infiltrated a Torchwood base and will be taken in for questioning."

"Jack," Donna groaned. Looking into the Doctor's fear-filled eyes, she gave him a reassuring wink. Jack apparently could not see the Doctor, from where he was standing, or he would have put his gun away. "Long time, no see, Jack," Donna began. She turned around, smiling, disarmingly.

"Do I know you?" Jack asked, his gun raised and his finger situated on the trigger.

"Well, no - not yet," Donna answered. "This will be your first time meeting me, my second time meeting you, Captain flirts-a-lot." Jack's hold wavered, his gun lowering slightly, before deciding her friendliness could be a trick. He had never seen this woman in his life and she was being cryptic in her answers - playing mind games. He raised his gun again, more alert than before.

"I don't know who the hell you are and who sent you," Jack replied, smoothly. "But if you don't come quietly, I will be forced to shoot. I am not in the mood for games."

"Jack, you have to listen to me," Donna exclaimed. "You have to trust me."

"Why?" Jack asked. "I don't even know your name and I have just met you. Under different circumstances I would love to get to know you, a little more intimately. But, at the moment, you have broken into my base and I have no clue who you are and how you knew we were here."

"I've been here before, in the future," Donna replied, with a slight teasing tone. "Jack, you really need to work on changing your password."

"Who are you?" Jack ordered again, wanting answers. He knew she was trying to throw him off balance, by making the password joke. He found it strange that she was not afraid, when a gun was pointing at her face. Maybe she was slightly mad.

"Donna Noble." Donna glared. The last thing she had expected was for Jack to be hostile – though, she realized now that she should have. The man had not met her before. She felt like an idiot and put on the spot. Somehow, she had thought it was a good idea to spout jokes. Nerves, she supposed.

"She's with me," the Doctor's voice boomed from behind her. "Put away your gun, Jack. You're among friends."

"Doc?" Jack immediately lowered his weapon, giving an obvious sigh of relief.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied. Stumbling forward, the Doctor clutched Donna's arm. His head swam, just from the simple movement. He swallowed down the bile that filled his throat. This place was doing things to him and he did not like it.

"Bloody hell, Doc, you scared the shit out of me."

Donna held him close and the Doctor took the offer to lean on her. "And this is my companion, Donna. The one you almost shot."

Immediately, Jack felt guilty. Stepping forward, he placed his gun into its holster. "Doc, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you say?" The last part was directed at Donna. Air, that she did not know she was holding, released from her lungs. Right away, she began to relax. Especially since the Doctor was beside her now.

"Well, with a gun pointed at my face, I believe my mind went a bit numb," Donna replied, strengthening her grip on the Doctor's arm. He was shivering and it was growing harder to hold him upright. Afraid he would fall, she positioned herself to carry most of his weight. An answering smile of gratitude showed in his expression. Repeatedly, he rubbed his forehead, as if his mind was screaming in pain.

"Sorry about that. You guys surprised me," Jack answered. Biting his lip, he shook his head. Smiling at them wryly, he quirked a questioning brow. "So, how did you guys successfully infiltrate the Torchwood hub?"

The Doctor stuck his hand into his sweat pockets, pulling out a normal screwdriver. Halfheartedly, he twirled it in his finger. "It was in William's van," he informed. "I found the control underneath the desk, of your information booth - with Donna's help, of course and pushed the release button."

"And I wasn't kidding when I said passwords," Donna reminded, with a wink.

"But I do change them," Jack exclaimed with mock exasperation.

"Not well enough to stop a Time Lord," Donna retorted, with a fond smile.

"Well, to continue on," The Doctor stated. "By using this baby-" He held out the screwdriver in his palm. "I was able to open the keypads next to each door, silence any alarms and pull the right wire to open each door."

Jack rolled his eyes. "You do realize those doors are impossible to break through. No one has done it before."

"Unless they're a Time Lord," the Doctor responded, with a hint of arrogance, before his face fell. A wave of Nausea hit him. His mind seemed to re-register the fact that he was in some secret government base, making his hearts thump loudly. Burying his head into Donna's neck, he attempted to ward off the nausea. From Jack's point of view, it did not look so innocent. He had no clue the Doctor was feeling unwell. He hardly ever considered the Doctor could get ill.

In his honest opinion, the Doctor and Donna were clutching each other rather intimately. They both had a strange feeling around them, like they were a little more than friends. "Are you two together then?" He asked. The words came faster, than he could think.

Why he had asked it, Jack did not know, maybe out of curiosity. He was never shy about talking about sex, or other romantic interactions, but for some reason he had found himself nervous about asking this question. As he observed the Time Lord more closely, he noticed the weakening state the Doctor was slipping into. He looked exhausted and the way he clutched his head concerned Jack. He considered, for a second, that the Doctor might be ill. He had never seen the Time Lord become poorly before. Always, he had seemed to have an immune system stronger than an army's defense. But Jack could sense that something was wrong, though, he was not sure as to what. For a moment, he feared that he was causing the Doctor pain and he backed away slightly, giving the Time Lord space. He knew his odd presence as a 'fact', a fixed point in time, could disturb the Doctor. According to the time sensitive alien, Jack was 'wrong' and he hoped he was not the one causing his discomfort. Jack shook his head, clearing his thoughts and worries. The Doctor would not like to be coddled, or worried about, so Jack decided not to be the one to do so. Again, he situated a charming smile on his handsome face, pretending he had not thought about the possibility of the Doctor getting sick. Besides, he had given them a question to answer. He was rather curious to hear the outcome.

"No," the Doctor muttered.

"Never ever," Donna exclaimed at the same time. "I'm not interested in Martian-boy."

"Why does everyone always assume we're together?" the Doctor complained, though the complaint was an aimless attempt to cover other feelings that had stirred.

"Good," Jack exclaimed. "Then you're both free." He gave a playful, flirtatious wink. "Not that it mattered."

Donna burst out in laughter, slapping him in the arm, playfully. "Oh, you! They don't call you Captain Flirts-a-lot for nothing." From the sudden movement, the Doctor clutched Donna tighter, trying not to fall or shake.

"Apparently you know me," Jack answered. "But I don't know you. Let's get reacquainted, shall we?" He leant forward, with a cheeky smile on his face and a flirtatious twinkle in his eyes. "Hello, Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced. "Now, who are you?"

"Donna Noble, super-temp," Donna answered back, with a bright grin. "And you already know this skinny streak." The Doctor glared at her, indignantly huffing.

"Now why is a gorgeous ginger, such as yourself, spending time with the Doctor?" Jack teased.

"Oh, traveling here and there," Donna replied. "Best mates, we are. Isn't that right, Spaceman?"

The Doctor nodded, with a tired smile. His lack of verbal banter did not escape Jack's notice. Normally, the Doctor was willing to jump right in, but right now he looked fainter than a ghost and about to collapse. Stepping forward, Jack held out a hand. "You alright, Doc? You look a bit under the weather, there." In response, the Doctor shook his head and at that moment collapsed. Donna was unable to hold his deadweight.

Reacting suddenly, Jack leapt forward, catching the Doctor, before he hit the ground. "Doc?!" he shouted. Wrapping a strong arm around the Time Lord's skinny waist, he hoisted him up, allowing Donna time to re-assemble herself. Breathing heavily, the Doctor clutched his chest. "Fine, I'm fine," he spluttered finally. "Just got - a bit dizzy. This place is getting to me."

"Do you want to sit down for a bit?" invited Jack. "We have a couch in the rec-room. I can make you a cuppa and we can catch up."

Eyes widening, Doctor shook his head. He reached out towards Donna, who took his hand. "I don't want to go any farther."

"Why?" Jack puzzled with the answer. Something had happened to the Time Lord - most likely, something terrible. Now, he noticed the exhaustion and despair in Donna's eyes as well. Seeing the Doctor so weak made him angry. He wanted to find out who had hurt his friend and when he did, he was going to kill them.

"What happened?" his voice dropped a couple of degrees. Protectively, his arms tightened. Violence and anger swarmed his mind and he wanted someone to pay for their misdeeds.

"Please, don't be angry Jack." The Doctor's voice was small. He seemed much more alone than before, terrified – no, petrified.

"Spaceman, lets relax on the couch for a bit," Donna stated. "We've had a big day."

"But Wilf and William are up top, waiting for us," the Doctor replied. "We need to get back to Chiswick and figure out what's going on."

"The mystery will still be there," Donna answered. "Come on, you. Let's take a look at your legs and have some tea."

The Doctor nodded and clutched Donna's arm. Unwillingly, Jack let go. He led them down a hall, taking a quick turn and stopping at a door, on the left. They followed him. The Doctor stumbled as they walked. Terror filled his eyes. Jack just watched on, sadly. He held onto Donna, like she was his support - a safety line, to keep him afloat. Donna did similar. They were clutching each other, as if they were the only two alive, alone on a deserted world. They needed each other and Jack felt his heart break. Something terrible had happened to these two and he would find out what. He wanted to protect them and be there for them. Even though, he only knew Donna for a short while, he felt a comradeship - similar to that he felt with Martha. It must be because they all have shared history and stories. All three of them held in common, the close familiarity with the Doctor and the TARDIS. It was like seeing Donna as a long lost cousin, someone he never met, but knew she was family.

Opening the door, he exposed a large rec-room, with a brown worn couch in the middle. White tiles lined the walls, covered by the large 'TORCHWOOD' logo, painted out in black. The room was probably the most normal looking out of any rooms in the hub. It had a rather inviting feel, from the comfy couch to the TV and the few arcade games that were situated against the wall. The room was used for relaxing, after a hard day's work of chasing aliens. It was the perfect place to recuperate and catch up on old topics and conversations, or lay back and enjoy a movie, with a hot drink in hand. Jack left for a second, heading towards the kitchen, to make the promised tea.

Taking care, Donna led the Doctor over to the couch and lowered him onto the soft cushions, tucking a pillow underneath his head, and taking a spot next to him.

Firmly, he held her hand, not once letting go. Cuddling closer to him, she provided a securing comfort. When Jack returned, he sat down on a chair, to the right of the couch. He had deemed the chair 'his chair' and no one had ever dared to sit on it. He handed two mugs, of hot tea, over to the Doctor and Donna.

"Sorry, if the tea is not up to standards," Jack commented. "Ianto is usually the one, who makes it. He makes a pretty good brew, but at the moment I am giving my team leave. He is with his family and Gwen is with Rhys. I'm here alone, for now."

"Why did you send them away?" Donna wondered, taking a sip of the warm liquid. It was not the best cup of tea, but it would have to suffice. Not a finger did the Doctor lay on his own cup, let alone did he sniff it, in curiosity. That worried Jack.

"Oh, it's been rough the last few months, or so," Jack responded. "Lost a couple of teammates." At the thought of Tosh and Owen, Jack's eyes significantly darkened into a stormy blue. He had tried not to mention his past teammates, because remembering hurt. It was better to move on and think about the future and the well-being of his current team. After a heavy breath, Jack re-composed himself.

Seeing through this composure, Donna leant forward, laying a comforting hand on Jack's arm. "I'm sorry," she sympathized. She was well acquainted with the death of a loved one.

In silent thanks, Jack nodded his head. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "And it's just been one thing chucked out of the rift, after the other and it's wearing everyone down. They needed the time to take a break. Thankfully, it has been a bit slow. I've been finishing up paperwork, the last couple of days and sorting through alien technology. Nothing of significance has happened in a while."

At that, the Doctor grunted, brown eyes intently watching Jack. Donna scoffed. "In Chiswick, there has."

"I heard about the earthquakes in London. Cardiff has only experienced a couple of the aftershocks, but thought nothing of it. I did set up some equipment to measure the quake waves and try to pinpoint the issue."

"I heard you've been talking with Martha," Donna commented.

"Yes, the mysterious deaths. I've done a bit of research and found that there was a strong connection to the deaths and quakes. I am sure Martha has already come to that conclusion though."

"She has," Donna answered.

"Doc, what do you think?" Jack wanted the Doctor involved in the conversation. So far, his behavior had been far from Doctor-ly and that was the most concerning. Since he realized the Time Lord was in the hub, he had been observing the Doctor's reactions. Instantly, he had picked up on how something was not right. The two time travelers were diverting the conversation - trying to focus on something else, instead of them. They were trying to blindside him and Jack was not going to allow it.

"What of it?" the Doctor replied, face paling significantly. "I just learned about it today. Got stuck in the quake, alongside Donna, Wilf, and Martha and hurt my legs in the process. This is all new to me."

"Didn't you come down to Earth today, hearing about the problem?" Jack fished. He wanted answers. "I'm sure Martha would have called and alerted you."

"I was already on Earth," the Doctor answered, vaguely.

"Oh, why is that?" Jack asked. "And why didn't you let me know you were here?"

"Didn't feel like it. I was recuperating."

That comment had hit Jack hard. He had not expected the Doctor to be so cruel in his answer. It was like he was purposely trying to make Jack feel less than important. To hear that the Time Lord did not want to see him right away, hurt. "Why were you recuperating?" Jack asked, icily. The source of where the tone came from was unknown to him, but he felt a surge of jealousy and worry hit him, like a truck. Why would the Doctor only alert Martha to the issue and not him as well? He cared for the Time Lord just as much and wanted to be there for him, during his toughest battles, supporting him along the way. Maybe it was because he was a mistake, a glitch in the Timelines. Shrugging off the thought, he focused on the drowsy and pale Time Lord.

"I needed time to heal," the Doctor whispered, in a soft hush. "Still do."

"Jack, stop interrogating him," Donna exclaimed. "Sit back and drink your tea. I need to check the Doctor's wounds. Everything will be explained." His mind still demanding for answers, Jack sat back. Blue eyes burrowing into Donna's back. She pulled the sweatpants up the Doctor's leg, revealing white, bloodstained bandages. Carefully, she unraveled them, to reveal messy wounds underneath.

"What happened to you?" Jack pressed. "Those are some nasty injuries."

"I-I fell a lot, during the quake - scraped my knees up," the Doctor replied, between gritted teeth. "Also, kneeled and stepped on some shattered glass."

Sympathetically, Jack gave a hiss, empathizing with the pain. "That's gotta hurt."

"Actually, I didn't feel anything, until my adrenaline spike crashed," The Doctor admitted. Glancing at the irritated wounds, his face drained of all color and he clutched his head, as unwanted memories returned to the surface. "It was a lot worse than now."

"Do you want me to check it out in the autopsy room," Jack asked, helpfully. He did not expect the Doctor to tremble and shake his head.

"N-No," The Doctor responded, biting his lip. "I'm good." Jack eyed him for a second, before Donna waved her hand, catching his attention.

"Jack, how bout you grab me some bandages and antiseptics," Donna stated. "I don't want these wounds to get any more affected than they already are." Nodding his head, Jack left the room to retrieve said items.

"It's healing up quite nicely," Donna commented. "I think we'll be able to take off the bandages in a few more hours. It will just be a bit sore for a while. Do you want me to get some pain-killers, to alleviate the pain?"

"Nah," the Doctor was quick to respond. "I'm good. Just wrap them back up, please?" Donna did so, as soon as Jack returned with the fresh bandages and antiseptics. The Doctor rested his head back against the pillow.

Jack fell back into his chair, watching the two time travelers. He propped his head up, eyebrows scrunching in curiosity and worry. He knew something had happened, he just didn't know what. After a quick evaluation, he decided to ask the question once more.

"What's going on?" Jack demanded to know.

"Donna's fixing up my legs," the Doctor spelled out, indifferently. He knew exactly what Jack meant, but he was in no mood to answer questions.

"You know what I meant," Jack evaded. "What happened to you and Donna? I've never seen you so afraid in my life. And Donna, I may not know her well, but I can tell that she is trying to protect you. And what was it about needing to recuperate? Please Doctor, I am your friend and I need answers. What were you doing on Earth, when you should have been traveling?"

"Jack, I can't," the Doctor stated, the desperation in his eyes broke Jack's heart. "It's too much and it hurts to talk about."

"Doctor, what happened?" Jack asked again. Unknowingly, his mind brushed against the Doctor's, hitting the Doctor with powerful colors of emotion, concern, compassion, anger, the need to provide security. The Time Lord stood up, swaying, before plopping back down and burying his head between the cushion and Donna.

"He's been staying with me and my family for around a month, I believe," Donna answered Jack's question. "He and I needed to heal."

"Why, Donna?"

"I can't tell you much, because it is in your future and you were a part of the rescue team," Donna confessed. "But I can tell you this; the Doctor has been through a lot and needs time to mend. Except, with this mystery on the loose, we don't have the time for recuperation and this thing is threatening my family, neighbors, and the people of London. We have come here, Jack, to ask for your help. We need it and I don't think we are in the position to do it alone."

Jack paused for a second, before nodding his head, deciding it was best to drop the subject for now. He would ask Donna again, later. "I was planning to head down to Chiswick anyways. I saw the news report on the earthquake and knew I needed to do a bit of investigation work myself. I discovered something on our monitors and I believe it is the same thing responsible for both the deaths and earthquakes. It is scary big and we'll need a lot more than a sonic screwdriver and a banana to stop it."

Donna gulped. "How big, did you say?"

"I didn't," Jack responded. "It's stretching beneath London and growing bigger and more deadly, every hour. Where the earthquake happened, it was there, pulsing and extending its limbs."

"Rassilon," the Doctor muttered.

"I actually have a captured image of it," Jack provided, helpfully. "I discovered it today, a few moments before you two arrived."

"Show us," the Doctor demanded. He sat up, straight on the couch, fire in his eyes.

"I'll let Gramps and William know, we're going to be a while," Donna stated, pulling out her cellphone.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that chapter. More Jack to come in the next, following with more Martha. Thank you for reading and reviewing. :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Here is Chapter 24. I have to give a huge thanks to thisdayandage for being a fantastic proof-reader. Please tell me what you think. It helps me know if I'm heading in the right direction. :)**

Chapter 24

Down the bleak hallway of U.N.I.T, Martha marched. Every twist and turn she followed had grown familiar, to the young doctor. Having arrived moments before, flashing her ID, she greeted some of the older U.N.I.T officers, before proceeding into the building. Past scientists and other soldiers, she strode, towards the lift. It would take her down to the lab areas, before she embarked down yet another hallway and took a left, into the autopsy room. Once there, she was met by Winston. Lab-coat swooshing and safety goggles atop his head.

"Dr. Jones!" He exclaimed. "I was just about to call you. Good thing you're here."

"You found something, I guess," Martha replied, coolly. Upon entering the autopsy room, she glanced around.

"Yep, the lab technicians took a few x-rays and ultrasounds of the victims. The results came as a shock," Winston explained. "They've pictures and everything. And some video footage from the Ultrasound too."

"May I take a look?" Martha requested. Her statement was more to prompt the young morgue attendant, than actually asking for permission.

"Of course," He replied, leading her out of the room and down to the sonography lab. "Normally I'm one who prefers spending time with the dead," He chuckled, at his own morbid joke. "But, I would be happy to escort you to the lab room. It is honestly a fascinating finding and I want to learn more about it. Some of the scientists were trying to enter the victim's chest cavity, but again were unable to." He thumped himself on the chest, with a smile. "Still rock-solid, as armour. And getting stronger. Almost like a casing to a nut. Nuts are tough to open, especially walnuts - gotta have a nutcracker for those."

"Where are the bodies now?" Martha queried. A small smile had curved her lips at Winston's eccentricities.

"Oh, back in the morgue actually," He responded, with a skip to his stride. "Safe inside their refrigerated boxes." Martha nodded, before pushing open the door labeled, '_Sonography lab'_.

Three scientists milled about. One was sat at a desk, flipping through pictures and writing notes. Another was at a laptop, possibly doing research. The third was cleaning the equipment off a large, extraterrestrial, machine. It consisted of a bed and four large computer monitors that surrounded it. There was a strange suction looking thing that Martha knew would take footage of the designated area. The metal arms twisted and warped, in a weird alien fashion. An MRI and CAT scan sat in the other two areas of the room. The lab was rather large and on the far side led into another room, which the door was closed to. A small sign was situated on the door, reading '_X-ray room'_.

"That's the ultrasound unit we used," Winston explained. "It is from the planet, Morblex 3, which is known for its highly advanced medical technology. Earth's ultrasound equipment would not have worked as well as this beauty." He referenced towards the alien tech, staring at it in awe. Winston was about to continue, before Martha interrupted his enthusiastic explanation.

"It's transducer probe is a lot more powerful," She continued, glancing over at Winston with a grin. "Creating louder sound waves, so it receives the echoes, more clearly than Earth's own equipment. With these frequencies, it can also give us a clearer picture, doesn't look as blurred and has the capacity to make it 3D in view - far more advanced. We also have a choice, by clicking a few buttons if we want colour or not. Honestly, most useful finding U.N.I.T could have found for the medical field." Giving Winston a wink, she stopped, arms crossed. Brows scrunching, Winston bobbed his head.

"Well, obviously you'd already know that," he agreed.

"I _was_ on the rescue team when we found this contraption. A medical ship had crashed and three of the medics from Morblex three were injured - one of them, close to death's door." She grimaced at the memory. "I was the one who doctored them, back to health. As thanks, they gifted UNIT with this advance unit - taught me how to use it too. So, I am very well versed in Morblex three medical science."

She started marching towards the counter. The scientists were still minding their business. The one thing about U.N.I.T scientists that Martha learned was that they really got sucked into the idea and the methods of their work. When someone entered, sometimes they were so absorbed that they had no clue that someone had arrived at their station. Winston fell into stride with her march.

"Why did you let me blather on then?" Winston asked, curiously. "If you already knew what I was explaining."

Martha shrugged, with a mischievous twinkle. "I was curious to see what you knew. It seems you are well adverse in anything alien that is brought here."

"Yeah, like to keep myself updated, I guess." Martha nodded approvingly at his answer.

Winston gave an enthusiastic smile, before cluing in the other three scientists in to their arrival. "Dr. Jones is here. She wants to take a look at your findings."

The scientists glanced up from their work. A petite blonde, the one who was searching through the photos, stepped forward and held out her hand. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement, from both the discovery and getting to show the famous Dr. Jones her discoveries. "It's an honor to meet and work with you again Dr. Jones," she exclaimed, enthusiastically. She seemed no older than twenty-seven, with her bright smile and young eyes. For the first time, in a long time, Martha felt old in the presence of this young scientist. She probably looked old. Though, she probably was only a few years older than the girl. Her eyes were dark from seeing too much. Knowing what was out there and the horrors that she had to face. A tired smile was etched to her face. She had never felt so old.

"Nice to meet you again as well," she said with a warm smile. "Dr.." She recognized the young woman from the Sontaran Invasion, she had shaken her hand, but had not worked closely with her. She was too busy being cloned. The young scientist was new, been here only a few months. Fresh from college, with the chirpy and bright eyed wonder that every new graduate had. But for the life of her, Martha could not remember the young woman's name. Long day, she assumed.

"Hembrowe," Carol responded with a warm and enthusiastic grin. "Dr. Carol Hembrowe." biting her lip, the scientist furrowed her brows and Martha knew a question was about to be asked. "Is it true, that you really did travel with the Doctor, Ma'am?" A shy look graced the younger woman's face. Martha did not answer right away. And as expected, Dr. Hembrowe began nervously retracting her prying question, worried that she had intruded on someone's privacy. "I mean you don't have to tell me. I understand it is private information and all. No one likes intruders. And me, I'm not an intruder. Just curious because the Doctor is sort of a legend here and to meet someone, other than the Brigadier, and shake their hand is a huge honor, Ma'am. But I totally and reasonably understand if you don't want to comment or tell us about your adventures..."

Smiling, Martha shook her head. She did not mean to make the young scientist nervous, that was not her intention at all. And it is not wise to be uncomfortable with the people you work with. She was used to people asking about her travels, humans were naturally curious and they tended to want to know more. She had been trying to figure out how to sum up the Doctor. The Doctor was a mystery and at the moment, not himself, which terrified Martha. It hurt to see her friend afraid and it hurt her, more so, to have him blame her for the earthquake. She would never admit it aloud, but his accusations had momentarily damaged her belief in him and herself. She had always looked up to him. He was her mentor and friend, and to have him be outraged because of her was too much. Especially, when he said she had tricked him. Sighing, Martha leaned against the table.

"No, no, it's fine," she reassured. "I have no problem talking about the Doctor." That seemed to have quieted the woman's nervous ramble. She glanced at Martha expectantly. "He's wonderful," Martha sighed. "He flies through time and space, saving the world and never asks for anything in return." Martha swallowed. "He is so clever and brilliant and funny and I let him get away."

"Did you love him?" Carol fished. Eyes widened, Carol flushed in embarrassment from her unprofessional approach. She turned her gaze. "Sorry," she stated. "That was completely unprofessional of me. I should not have pried into your privacy and am embarrassed by my improper and abrupt manner." She stood up, her muscles tense and her eyes downcast. She had been swept away by the romance of time travel. And the quick peek that Martha Jones had kindly shared with her was used to feed that constant demanding hunger for a romantic adventure. As an employee at U.N.I.T there was never enough time to have a relationship. Work was top priority. The only way Carol had to fill these fantasies, was to hear stories from others. But she had mistakenly crossed that trusted zone that had been set in place. She didn't even know Martha Jones that well. Face straightened in a business manner, she flattened the ruffles out of her lab-coat. "We should probably get started. You came here for a reaso-"

"Lets," Martha replied earnestly,standing up as well. She knew Carol didn't mean to be evasive, but that question had truly startled her. She had not thought of the Doctor and her relationship for a while and didn't like to be reminded. He was a mystery to her, always will be. She had fallen for his tall,dark, and handsome act so long ago and like a silly schoolgirl followed him into the stars. She had tried to grow close to him, but the mask he had put in place was impossible to break. Hiding his feelings from her, he pushed her away, isolating himself. She had to leave. No one could live that way and neither could he. She thought he was getting better, that Donna was making him better. She had seen him joke, with Donna, during the Sontaran invasion. He had shown more range of emotion, with Donna, than he had with her. She truly thought he was healing - that he was getting better. But, all those hopes had come crashing down, due to the recent events. Not even a full two days had passed, since she herself, had arrived on the scene. He had blamed her, searching for Donna instead, not wanting anything to do with her. Why was it always her? Martha knew it was selfish to think about her personal issues, during the crisis at hand, but she could not help but question her worth. She had a strong sense of need, to prove her capability. Yet, every time she tried, something happened. And it was not fair.

"This way," Carol solemnly stated, gesturing with her hand. "I think we have something that can end this case once and for all." Martha nodded, as she snapped out of her memory. The young scientist had pulled her out of her dark reveries, pushing her into a new direction.

"That would be a good idea," Martha agreed. She followed Carol into the back room, ignoring the other two scientist's stares. Winston followed suit.

* * *

Eyes squinting, glued to the screen, the Doctor was leaning forward. Delicately, but quickly, his fingers danced along the keyboard. Files quickly flew pass the screen, as the Doctor analyzed the readings, measured from the tremors. He was in his zone. Any trace of fear or discretion was gone from his eyes, as he quickly worked on the problem at hand. And to Jack, the Doctor appeared less nauseous than before. If it were not for the baggy sweats and ruffled, dirty shirts, the Doctor would have seemed almost like his usual self. The new change in appearance had far from escaped Jack's sight. At first, he had decided not to comment on it or think about it. However, as he looked at the Doctor, who lacked his normal array of clothed armour, he could not escape the fact that something was not right. After Donna's confession, the Doctor's abnormal behavior and evidential new look, Jack knew something serious had happened. It bugged him, not knowing what – just that it was bad. He watched Donna, lean over the Doctor's shoulders, placing a hand on his arm to steady herself, as his shoeless feet tapped a beat of uneasiness. The bare feet had not escaped the observant eye of Jack either. Focusing on the monitor, no one spoke, afraid to interrupt or miss something important.

Jack was the first to break the silence. Quietly, he stepped over to Donna and tapped on her shoulder. Two inquiring blue eyes faced him, in answer to the action. His head gestured towards the door that would lead them out of the office and into the hall. "Why?" Donna mouthed. Shooting a glance towards the Doctor, she caught how he ran a hand, nervously, through his thick and wild mane. Poking a tongue out, in concentration, his hands continued to glide, stealthily and skillfully, across the pad.

"I need to talk to you," Jack mouthed back, miming a few words and pointing towards the door. He did not want to interrupt the Doctor's focus, nor did he want the Doctor a part of the conversation that he planned to have with Donna. He did not know how the conversation would go and what he had seen from both Donna and the Doctor, it could only go one way and he would be left heartbroken. Heartbroken, because he knew once he had the information, he could do nothing to change it. To stop it from happening.

Donna leant down, giving a quick kiss to the Doctor's cheek. The Time Lord spluttered, glancing up in shock from the contact. Apparently, he was not paying attention to the activity around him. His mind solely focused on the task at hand. He touched his cheek, as if the kiss was an unfathomable touch - the most unlikely thing to have ever occurred. She ruffled his hair playfully, in a somewhat reassuring, yet buggy manner. He glared, flattening his hair, only to have it pop up once more, with a playful bounce.

"I'm gonna step out for a minute," Donna informed him. "Talk to Jack for a second. Will you be alright alone for a few minutes?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, with a huff. "I think I can manage." Donna swatted him, playfully, before turning to leave.

"Don't blow anything up," she retorted, cheekily. Though, her eyes betrayed her tone, broken and unmatched to her playful disposition. She followed Jack out the door and into the hallway. The Doctor's eyes mapped their progress, before the computer caught his interest once more.

Leaning heavily against the wall, Donna looked up. The playful smile melted away, hardening into a frown. The sheer exhaustion on her face did not escape Jack's observant eyes. She looked haggard – old, almost. No longer the radiant and smart-mouthed ginger she once was. Although Jack had not known her for long, he knew, deep in his heart, that the carefree manner was all a game to relax the unusually high-strung Time Lord. Inside, she was crumbling. Unlike her companion, she had not been offered any substantial help and attention. She was braving it out alone.

"You look exhausted," Jack casually commented. "Everything alright?" Donna rolled her eyes. She knew that he had come to get answers from her. And she knew by the end of this conversation she would be giving them, in the most discrete way she could.

"I've seen better days," Donna retorted. "And I believe you already know the answer to that question, Captain."

She glared. He sighed. There was no messing around or running circles with Donna Noble. From the moment he met her, he knew she had a 'No Nonsense' policy and he was not about to challenge it. A small smile graced his chiseled features. He mused on how, when the Doctor first met her, that the Time Lord was probably taken by surprise, by her abrupt and straight to the point manner. Even he was taken by surprise by this fiery woman's bravery. She was good for the lonely alien. He shook his head, escaping from his pensiveness. Crossing his arms, he looked her, squarely in the eyes, giving his own 'No Nonsense' stare. She did not fidget, or blink, only holding his gaze more fiercely than before. "What happened?" he asked, smoothly. This time he would not allow the question to be avoided. "I need to know. So I can help the Doctor..." He held her gaze. "And you. You're broken and I can see through the mask. I wear the same mask sometimes. And I know when the Doctor is faking, though he's doing a terrible job at the moment." His eyes glanced at the oblivious Time Lord's back. "It's like he doesn't have the energy to pretend anymore."

Donna folded. Her body slumped, as if the weight of the universe had finally broken her. A gush of tears escaped. She slid down the wall, covering her face and wept. "I don't k-know what to do anymore. I-I k-keep fighting, keep trying to be brave. But he's n-not the same anymore-" glancing up with tear filled eyes, violent sobs wracked her chest. "N-neither am I," she stated despondently. And she was no longer the same anymore. She was a broken shell of what she used to be. Knees pulled up to her chest, Jack slid down next to her, wrapping a brotherly arm around her and pulling her close. Pressing her face into his chest, his shirt became a wet, soppy mess, but Jack did not mind. "M-my family has been there f-for me. But it's hard for them too sometimes - hard for them to notice me. T-the Doctor and his needs have sort of taken over and I'm left with trying to fit my own disjointed and broken pieces back together."

Jack did not answer. He did not make a comment or ask a question. She needed to spill her guts, reach out to someone and release her own sorrows and he was not going to be the one to stop her.

"Sometimes I hate him," she grumbled bitterly, arms crossed. "I blame him for what happened and it scares me. It scares me because I see myself in our tormentors' shoes. They hated him for being different and I'm using him as my scapegoat in our own misfortunes-" She glanced up at Jack's straight face, no emotions bubbled from his mouth. Only his eyes conveyed the sympathy and pity he felt. "It scares me because I don't want to be like them. I don't want to hate my best friend. And I don't want to hate him for no good reason. He got the worst of it in there. I was merely a tool to make him obey. They only harmed me, when he grew stubborn and defiant. But, I saw the horrors and I was just as much a part of it, as he was. I witnessed things. Things I wish to never see again, but every night I see it. I see them." She paused for a second, restoring her breath and racing heart. She closed her wet, red eyes and took a settled breath. Her hair was in disarray, her nose an irritated red. "I've learned to keep quiet at night. My troubles are not as bad as his. He has a harder time of holding the nightmares in. he screams blue murder, reliving every painful act that fell upon him. I only have the images of that hell, he has the pain."

"Donna," Jack's voice shook in anger. An anger that if released would cause destruction and mayhem. A hate that had colored his sight red. He wanted vengeance for his friends and he promised himself, when he found their tormentors, he would shoot them. Shoot them in the head and blow up whatever heinous base they held the Doctor and Donna in. "Who was it?" his voice hissed like a cobra about to strike, but with features as smooth as a stone. He was deadly, angry, trigger-happy, and wanted pay back. "Who did this?"

"As I said before, Jack," Donna replied, seriously. "I can't tell you. It is in your future and our past and if you tamper with the event, it could cause a paradox and erase this universe from existence."

"Give me a hint then, a name at least," Jack argued. "So, I can-"

"No," Donna replied. "Your time will come and you will know the truth, but the best thing you can do for now is help us heal." Her hand swiped at her runny nose, as she composed herself. Putting herself back into place and organizing her ruffled hair.

"Was it one person?" Jack probed.

"An organization," she vaguely answered. "Of hateful men and women." derision and disgust dripped from her tongue in acidic drops. "Who despised differences – aliens, in fact."

Jack frowned, remembering the Doctor's reaction when entering the Torchwood hub. His features creased in worry, fear gripping his heart. His voice grew thick, each word heavy on the ears. It could not be, could it? Would they? He knew that they had the capability of being cruel. Damaging creatures they found less than them. But would they go so far? "Was it Torchwood?" Jack asked, in a whisper. He was afraid to hear the answer. An answer he would not like. That would make him sick.

"No," Donna answered. And Jack released the sigh, he did not realise he was holding. "Another organization. In fact, we hold your team in gratitude."

"We rescued you?" Jack pried.

"I can't say," Donna replied. But a slight bob of her head, confirmed Jack's observation.

"When was it?" he asked. If it was in his future, he wanted to be prepared.

"A little over a few years from now," she replied again, vaguely. Though it was an evasive answer, it was enough for Jack to start planning for the future. He was going to be there for his friends now and he will be there for them in the future. He was not going to let them down.

"I'll see what I can do," he murmured. Gently, he wiped away the last lingering tear on Donna's cheek and offered her a handkerchief. Helping her to her feet, Jack pulled Donna close, kissing the top of her head.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything." He nodded his head.

"I have one more question," Jack said. He held Donna's arms, looking into her eyes. "Where's the TARDIS?"

"In the shed, at my house," she replied, wiping away another tear. "He hasn't seen her since we arrived here and he entered my house. Too afraid to go outdoors." Donna sighed. "She misses him. She's grieving. I sometimes go and visit her, but I don't think I'm enough. She wants her pilot back." Donna felt the tears returning. "They hurt her just as much as they hurt him, Jack. But she's alone and I can't balance the both of them. I-It's breaking me apart." fresh tears stemmed from her eyes and Jack wiped them away.

"Then we'll just have to reunite them," Jack encouraged. "I bet he misses her, just as much as she misses him." He pulled Donna into a reassuring hug, murmuring comforting words, telling her again, everything was going to be alright. As an answer to his comment, she nodded her head, unenthusiastically. It might seem that all the fight had been stolen from her, but there was still a spark. And Donna Noble was not one to give up so easily.

"Come on then," he replied chirpily, attempting to pull Donna out of her own wallowing grief. "Let's check on our friendly, neighborhood Time Lord and make sure he hasn't blown anything up."

Donna nodded her head in agreement, giving him a watery smile. Jack took her hand, squeezing it, comfortingly and led her back into his office.

* * *

Images were set against the wall, so any of the scientists could step in and observe them. Florescent light illuminated the details, from behind. And what Martha witnessed shocked her. In the middle of the picture, where the chest cavity was set, a weird solid streak sat curled in the middle. Its head was bulb shaped, with a long, thick tail wrapped around in a tight fetal position. Certain areas were lightened, exposing the places where parts of its anatomy were still developing. This one was Ralph Horseman's intruder. The other two victims had identical invaders of their own.

"What is it?" Martha questioned, breathlessly. She reached over towards the picture, tracing the strange creature with a gloved hand.

"We don't know," Carol answered. "We were hoping you knew because of your travels with the Doctor."

"Sorry," Martha replied, with a shrug. "Never seen this before." She removed her hand from the photo, stepping back a bit, with a scrutinizing eye.

"Would the Doctor know?" Winston asked, with a similar intense gaze in his eyes. "He is an alien and everything."

"And has an abundance of knowledge," Carol added. She glanced over at Martha. Shrugging her shoulders, Martha shook her head.

"Don't know," Martha said. "He may have seen it, he may have not. I can't really say, until I ask him."

"Then you should ask him," Winston stated, matter-of-factly. "We won't get anything done until we know."

"I'll meet up with him tonight," Martha confirmed. "He's in Cardiff, at the moment. Looking for a friend and collecting information on the earthquake. We are going to regroup when he gets back."

"That's good," Winston agreed. "Coming up with a plan is always a good option."

"Though his plans tend to break apart at the seams," Martha responded, with a sarcastic tone.

"Not a good planner then?"

"Let's say he prefers improvising." Martha returned her gaze back to the photos, ending the conversation. "Do you have live feed, Dr. Hembrowe? I want to see it caught live. I'm suspecting it was moving when you first saw it."

"Yeah, it was," Carol affirmed. "It's tail was wiggling. Same with the other two."

"May I see the footage caught on tape," Her question was more of demand than an actual question. Martha knew there was no time for beating around the bush. If her concerns were proven true and the Doctor and Donna's new info matched with hers, things could get deadly very quick.

"Of course," Carol exclaimed. "Come with me." She led Martha and Winston out of the room and back towards the original lab room where the alien ultrasound unit was housed. She stepped next to it, pressing a couple buttons. With a puff of steam, four metal clasps unhinged and the two metal doors moved aside,revealing a screen. She typed out a few more commands.

"The machine recorded everything we discovered, during our exploration,"Carol explained. "We found something that we believe would interest you." She typed in another code, as the footage appeared. A computerized voice switched on.

"_Welcome,_" It greeted, in alien jargon. _"How can I be of assistance?"_

"Weird,"Winston muttered, unnerved by the alien machine's communication. Apparently he had not known about the machines ability to talk. Martha stepped forward.

"I would like to see video footage on Ralph Horseman's overview," Martha commanded.

"_Command granted,"_ it replied. The voice switched off and all was silent, until the recording flashed onto the screen.

The creature, in the captured footage, moved sluggishly. Its tail twitching, as it rested its egg-shaped head, against the ribs. Sightless and mouthless, there was nothing to define a face. It was a greenish-gray color. It whipped around tail cracking like a whip, as if trying to get comfortable in the fluids it floated in.

"It looks like sperm," Winston muttered. Martha glanced at him, raising a brow. "Well it does," he exclaimed.

"Not disagreeing," Martha reassured.

"All the victims have shown signs of bloating in the chest cavity," Carol explained. "From the ultrasound, we had discovered that the victim's chest had filled with a foreign sticky mucus liquid, similar to that you would find in the womb of a pregnant woman."

The creature moved again, tail flipping out to its full extent. Pausing the footage, Carol walked towards the screen. "See this?" she pointed towards the tail. "There are little barbs, running along the tail." She zoomed in closer, so Martha and Winston could see the barbs clearer. They were pressed close to the flesh of the creature, in the shape of little leaves. "I don't know what it is, but it seems to be developing as the creature grows. Unfolding." Carol pursed her lips, pointing towards the little ball at the end of the tail. "That there, has tiny, flexible strands hanging from it. I discovered it, during our little exploration."

Martha followed Carol's hand gestures, taking notes on everything she had seen. A picture was starting to form and a much better idea of the situation they were dealing with was growing.

"Hard armoured chest," Martha muttered. "Strange bloating, alien mucus and a strange creature growing inside-"

"I think the dead are pregnant," Winston concluded, seriously. He did not notice the strange glances that were sent in his direction. "What?"

"Not how I would have put it," Martha continued. "But yes, I believe Winston is right. Something is growing inside of these victims."

"And whatever is growing inside, always have to come out," Carol added. The three grew silent, only the quiet vibrations of movement came from the screen, flashing colors as it changed scenes or the creature changed its position.

"Now, if only I knew what species we are dealing with," Martha murmured.

"Anything that can alter the anatomy of a human and create an impenetrable barrier has to be dangerous," Carol stated.

"I agree," Winston stated, ruffling his hair. "With the earthquakes and now this, whatever we are dealing with is big and unknown."

"But we've already got some of the clues," Carol optimised. "All we need is a few more and the puzzle will be solved."

"And that is where my other contact comes in," Martha replied. She glanced over at Winston, who was busy picking at his nails. His brows were lowered and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth. He was mumbling incoherently to himself, as if single-handedly trying to solve the strange case that had appeared. "Winston?"

Winston glanced up, snapped out of his thoughts. "Yes, Dr. Jones."

"I would like to see the bodies again," she replied. Standing up, she cracked her sore and stiff limbs. "I want to see if I can find anything else." Winston nodded, getting up as well.

He opened the closed door, gesturing for Martha to step out first. "Ladies first," he stated. Martha nodded her head, smiling kindly. Carol followed suit, as Winston closed the door.

"I'll stick around here, I suppose," Carol stated. "I'll call you if I find anything else." Martha nodded, shaking Carol's hand. She left, following Winston down to the morgue.

* * *

"You lot have gotta take a look at this," the Doctor exclaimed from the computer monitor. It was obvious he had discovered something of monumental importance. If he had his brainy specs on, he would have probably been whipping them off dramatically, with an enthusiastic 'I discovered something' grin. As it was though, he did not have his brainy specs on and in place was maybe a half smile, if even that. Jack felt Donna slump against his hold. The change in the Doctor's demeanor was taking a terrible toll on her. It was a cruel reminder of everything they had both lost; dignity, independence, and confidence. Jack's heart broke just a little bit more. But, he decided to humour the Doctor, pretending nothing was wrong and everything was how it should be. Although, he found he could not fully escape that dark sorrow that sat on his heart since learning the truth. Jack nudged Donna, encouraging her to seem curious and ready for a new adventure. Though, that was far from her mind at the moment.

"What ya find, Doc?" Jack asked, a little bit overenthusiastic. Maybe condescending, he wasn't sure.

The Doctor provided him with a strange look, before shaking his head and pointing at the screen. "You're blue energy streak isn't actually a blue energy streak." The two sauntered over, glancing over the Doctor's shoulder at the weird dialect and the much more solid and 3D image of the non-streak.

"What is it?" Donna asked.

"Not sure," the Doctor replied, with a hint of a grin. "But I can't wait to find out." He spun around in his chair to face the two companions. "I did a bit of tweaking of your system – sorry, Jack."

"Couldn't stop you even if I tried," Jack stated, with a shrug.

"Well," The Doctor continued, adding on a few too many L's. "I tweaked your system, threw in a few more codes, you wouldn't know about, and escalated the frequency. And when I did this, I got a stronger reading on the strange energy blips that you had found. It hardened into this." He gestured at the computer. The picture had solidified, to a flexible cylinder shape. It was thin, but sturdy and it seemed to stretch across the computer, digging deeper into the ground. It jerked, showing the ground rumble.

"This is what I believe caused that unfortunate earthquake," the Doctor concluded, proudly. He leaned back, wiping at his eyes, in obvious exhaustion.

"But what do you think it is," Donna prompted, with an undertone of sadness. It hurt seeing the Doctor like this. Again, another cruel reminder of everything they had lost. He seemed happy, content with the mystery, but she knew it was temporary. As soon as everything was over with, he would go back to being afraid of his own shadow. Since when did she become so negative?  
"A root," he replied, pleased with himself. "An extremely long, extremely dangerous root, that is connected to something else, even more deadly."

"Great," Jack muttered. "All in a day's work, I suppose."

"Look here," the Doctor spun back around to face the computer monitor. "See those tinier specks along the bigger root?" Jack and Donna nodded, moving closer. The Doctor typed in a few commands and the computer zoomed into a small section of the root. "They're tinier roots, which are growing. They will head in different directions, causing more destruction, as they get bigger. Suck up the nutrients from the soil."

"So, we're dealing with an alien plant," Jack confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup," the Doctor exclaimed, popping the p. "Seems so."

"Do you know what type?" Donna questioned.

"Nope, never seen it in my life," the Doctor answered. "But the problem with alien plants, they don't behave similarly to Earth plants. Yeah, maybe they perform photosynthesis, grow in the dirt. Maybe need some type of insect to pollinate them. But others have evolved to be much more independent, almost sentient - knowing exactly how to survive." The Doctor paused, eyes growing dark. "I don't know what type of plant this is, but I do know it is dangerous."

"Aren't some of these plants carnivorous?" Jack inquired.

"Can be. But then again, I don't know what species it is," the Doctor reminded. "Could be something, could be nothing."

"People are dying," Jack reminded, with a straight face.

"Oh, then it is something," the Doctor concluded, rising from his seat. Nausea hit him like a freight train and he stumbled, clutching his head, equilibrium off balance. Donna grabbed his arm to steady him. He took a deep breath, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Silently, he hoped that a bad memory would not trigger. If one did, he was not sure he would be able to handle it. Lucky for him, nothing happened and he obtained his balance once more. "Thank you," he muttered, in gratitude. Donna patted him on the shoulder. The redness in her eyes did not go unnoticed to him. She had been crying and he knew he was the cause of it. Gently, he stroked her cheek, worry gracing his features, not caring that Jack was in the room. She grabbed his hand, holding it against her cheek.

"I'm fine," she whispered. The Doctor nodded his head, not believing it for one minute. After a couple of minutes, he removed his hand. Falling back into the chair, he groaned.

"You're tired," Donna stated. "Maybe we should head back."

"Plus, now that we have the needed information, we can start planning. Find a way to stop this thing from growing," Jack added.

Sighing, the Doctor stood up, in agreement with both of their thoughts. He was feeling exhausted. Through all of the excitement, he had forgotten his terrors, momentarily. Now, he wanted to go home, perhaps eat some soup, and sleep. But there was a long drive back and he was wary of being able to maintain a handle on it completely. Knowing the destination this time however, was promising.

"I'll let Gramps and William know what we've decided," Donna stated, pulling out her mobile. She left the room.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Jack spoke.

"Are you ready to end this case?" Jack asked, with obvious concern. He had not yet witnessed how bad the Doctor could get. But he had seen enough to know this was probably not one of his bad days. Knowing the Doctor had been tortured, was hard for Jack to fathom. And to see his hero so broken, broke him as well - made him lose faith in humanity. How could people be so cruel, to such a kind and compassionate man? But Jack knew the answer. It was because the Doctor was an alien. He knew what time period the Doctor and Donna went to, to get captured. He remembered learning about it in history, while he was in school. It was looked down upon, hated, a reminder of how cruel people could get. The 51st century had a strong reaction to the 21st century's hate crimes against aliens. It was similar how the 21st century felt about the racial hate crimes, against others of different race in the 20th century.

They found it despicable, but knew they could not change it. It was a reminder to how the human race was quick to judge, form riots, held prejudice hearts in their chest and quick to jump to conclusions, using stereotypes that were untrue. The 21st century's hate towards extra-terrestrial species started after the moving of planet Earth and the alien invasion, of those enormous, hateful, metal pepper-pots, that followed. It was dealt with, but the attack was the final straw and what started the hate campaigns and hate crimes towards aliens.

A lot of aliens inhabiting Earth, during that time, left, heading back to their home planets. It was a bad time for aliens to live on, or visit Earth. Many who did not escape in time were captured, beaten, and thrown into a ditch. Some were even sold to lucrative administrations, like Area 51, or something similarly evil. Jack knew he would be living through those years and he would hate every second of it. He knew of course, a similar leader, like Martin Luther King Jr., would step out, give a famous speech and promote universal equality. Earth would change, inviting aliens to their planet, and promoting coexistence. But it would not happen until twenty years after the first leader for peaceful coexistence spoke. It would take a while, but it would happen. Jack glanced back over at the Doctor, who had not answered yet.

"Yeah," the Doctor finally replied. "But I'm tired. I need to rest first." Understandingly, Jack nodded his head. He was going to protect the Doctor and Donna, no matter what.

"Gramps and William are up top," Donna announced, when she returned. "We should get a move on." They left the hub. Jack made sure the security was up and running correctly, before following suit.

* * *

In the morgue, Martha stood, waiting for Winston to open the cases, where the bodies rested. Staring at the cases strangely, Winston shook his head, pulling out his key.

"What's wrong?" Martha asked.

"Nothing," he replied, a little too quickly. "The cases – well, they're just.. a bit dent." And they were. It was as if something was trying to kick them open, from the inside and had managed to put a dent in the metal. Martha found that strange. He opened the door, sliding out the beds. Sandra Baker, Ralph Horseman and Josephine Millbrook were in place, eyes closed and still dead. Winston shrugged his shoulders, but Martha still held a nervous suspicion in her heart. She had traveled with the Doctor long enough to know that nothing is as it seems. Upon closer examination, Martha noticed how their face had taken a greener tint. The spot behind their necks, especially Sandra's, seemed to pulse - as if alive. The thing inside of her moved and slithered. There was a pulse that climbed up her throat. Winston leaned in closer, unaware of the possible danger that lay ahead. Something was wrong. Sandra's eyes popped open, dead and strained, her head turning to face them. Winston leapt back.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Lots happened. We'll be continuing to skip between Martha and the Doctor, until they finally meet up again. Please review and tell me what you think.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! Well, this chapter proved to be a little tougher than the others and it took me three takes to get how I like it. I want to thank Thisdayandage for proof-reading it and helping me form ideas and really figure out the science behind the whole mystery. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think through a review. I am off now to try and figure out chapter 26, which will also prove to be a challenge, as well as developing the storyline for the next story in the series. Here is Chapter 25! Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 25

_The spot behind their necks, especially Sandra's, seemed to pulse - as if alive. The thing inside of her moved and slithered. There was a pulse that climbed up her throat. Winston leaned in closer, unaware of the possible danger that lay ahead. Something was wrong. Sandra's eyes popped open, dead and strained, her head turning to face them. Winston leapt back._

His eyes widened in silent shock, as he backed into Martha. The creature lifted Sandra's hand, wiggling its fingers, before setting the hand back down.

"What the-" Winston exclaimed – though, he did not need to finish his sentence, for Martha to understand.

"I don't know," Martha replied. "It's impossible. But then again, we deal with the impossible every day."

"But Sandra Baker is dead - strangled to death," Winston tried to reason. "How is she moving?"

"We'll just have to find out," Martha replied, a bit strained. Slowly, she handed her mobile towards Winston, cautious not to make any sudden movements. He clutched it. "Call for back-up. I'm going to try talking to it."

"Why?" Winston wanted to know. Never had he experienced something like this. He was used to working with the deceased. Up until now though, they had always remained that way - not popping back to life to wiggle their fingers. His own fingers slowly typed in a number and cautiously, he moved the mobile to his ear.

"It's an alien life form," Martha responded. "It might be sentient. It's best to ask questions, before reacting offensively."

"And if it kills you before you can question it?" Winston sought, just as the phone rang. Martha did not answer. She stepped forward. Each cautious step moved her closer to the creature. Its head turned, facing her. Dead eyes watched her approach. She halted. A strained gulp slid down her throat. She pushed back her fear.

"My name is Doctor Jones," Martha began, pulling out her badge. "I am U.N.I.T's medical doctor and scientific adviser. You have landed on our planet. May I ask what you are doing here?"

"_Soooiiillll,_" It rasped and stuck out Sandra's decayed tongue, waggling it, thirstily.

"Excuse me?" Martha asked. It merely watched her with hollow eyes. The stare sent shivers down her spine. Little of her attention was on Winston's quiet rant, as he whispered into the cellphone, asking for back-up. The quiet snap of the flip-phone ended the call. His slow nod confirmed that back-up was on its way.

"_Soooiiillll,_" It repeated. With sluggish movement, it rolled off the slab. "_Sooiiillll._"

"If you need soil, we have plenty of that," Winston confirmed. The creature's head whipped around. Its head bent to the side, unsupported by a damaged neck, not strong enough to hold it up. Winston backed away slightly. It sniffed the air.

"_Miinnneee,_" it groaned.

"Martha," Winston whispered. "Martha?"

"What?" Her focus was solely on the creature inhabiting and controlling Sandra's body.

"The other two," Winston muttered. "They're awake too." Martha was able to glance over, just as Ralph Horseman's and Josephine Millbrook's bodies sat up. Their eyes were just as dead and cold and their jaws hung open.

"_Soooiiilll,_" they rasped, in unison. Sandra propelled forward, knocking Martha to the ground and standing over her. Something wiggled its way out between her lips. A stem of some sort, whipped about, like an angry snake. Unhinged jaws, rasped the horrendous word again. Decaying nails swiped at Martha. Rolling away, Martha kicked out at it, in the process. It stumbled back, eyes full of nothingness. She hopped back to her feet, this time prepared. Ralph and Josephine had slid off the slabs and sluggishly approached them. They stood beside Sandra, bodies contorting and changing, as the plant grew rapidly inside of them.

Glancing at the exit that Winston and Martha were blocking, they groaned with a low rumble. For the first time, those eyes held an emotion, cold determination-and fear. "_Ooouuutt,_" they groaned together.

Neither Martha nor Winston ran. They stood, feet planted to the ground - eyes never wavering away from the plant-monsters. For they knew, if they ran, that these monsters could escape and cause more havoc, throughout U.N.I.T's base and within the civilian population. It was their duty to distract them, until help came.

"I never thought it would end like this," Winston stammered. Martha did not answer. She held herself at the ready, searching for anything that could be deemed a weapon. She was not going down without a fight. The alien entity lurched forward, tackling her to the ground. Its movements were strained and jerky, as if every step was painful. In the distance, she heard the emergency alarm go off.

* * *

The drive home was relatively quiet. No one spoke. All the introductions had been made before entering the car, but no one had anything to talk about. Not Wilf, or William, not even Jack, who had been quite animate about getting to know the new acquaintances in his vicinity. William drove along the motorway. Above them, the sky had grown dark. Not many cars were out, which made it easier to drive at higher speeds. The Doctor had fallen asleep, resting on Donna's lap. Gently, she stroked fingers through his thick hair and observed the passing scenery. Jack rested a protective hand on the Doctor's side. He squirmed slightly, from the contact. Though, the van's movement rocked him back to sleep again, quickly enough.

"Long day he's had," Wilf commented, as he drowsily leaned his head against the window.

"We've all had a long day Gramps," Donna replied. "Too much has happened." A hand touched her arm, in a comforting manner. She glanced over at Jack, who in return gave her a consolatory squeeze. Wilf nodded back at them.

"So, Captain," Wilf stated, attempting to change the subject. "What is this nonsense about a root growing underneath London?"

"Well, Mr. Mott," Jack began. "I can't tell you much because we sort of only just discovered it. The Doctor confirmed that it was a giant root and not some energy signature, how I originally believed. It is growing quite rapidly beneath the surface and-"

"Spaceman believes it could be the start of a giant alien plant," Donna finished, still running her fingers through the sleeping Time Lord's hair. "A giant, alien, _killer_ plant."

"What she said," Jack confirmed, with a wink.

"So, London's being invaded by plants?" Wilf probed, before shrugging. "Well, nothing short of the unusual. Always thought our first known alien invasion would be little green men."

Jack snorted. "Nope, no little green men here. Though me, Doc and Rose had fought giant green men that looked like deformed babies."

"The Slitheen," Donna confirmed, a smile crossing her face. "Yep, Spaceman told me about that adventure. Wouldn't want to meet them."

"You wouldn't," Jack agreed. Leaning back against the seat, he rested his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he let out a restful breath. All was silent, except for the Doctor's occasional groan as he turned in his seat. It was strange watching him rest. The Time Lord was normally not one for sleeping and to the ex-Time Agent, it seemed almost surreal. But Jack knew the reasons behind the Doctor's lack of energy and it broke his ancient heart. Sighing, he released all the tension he felt - all that fuming anger. For he knew he could not do anything about it now. What happened, happened. He could not change their past, or his future.

"So," William stated, interrupting the silence. "What are we going to do about this? If we let it continue growing, it will just destroy London. There's also a strong possibility that it will destroy Earth." He had not spoken throughout the ride. Too focused on driving and reaching their destination. Besides, why should they care what he had to say? He was, after all, just the taxi-driver.

"Haven't come up with a plan yet," Jack replied. "There are still too many holes in the information. Normally, I would be one to jump, feet first, into any situation. But considering this thing is unreasonably large, causing earthquakes, and killing people, I feel like it is best to find out what Martha discovered and create a plan from there." William nodded his head, clutching the steering wheel. His knuckles began turning a ghostly pale.

"How much longer do you think the drive will be?" Donna questioned.

"'Bout another hour," William replied. "Maybe less, considering the lack of traffic."

"Good," Donna answered. She pulled out her cellphone and dialed Martha's number. "I'm just gonna call Martha. Tell her we're almost back. We'll have her meet us back at our house." Silence fell upon the small group, as the phone rang. It rang once. It rang twice. It continued to ring, yet no one picked up. "That's strange," Donna announced. "She's not answering."

"Maybe she's a bit busy?" Jack suggested. Donna shrugged, when the cell reached the answering machine. There was a long beep and Donna relayed her information.

"Hey, Martha, it's Donna," She began. "I'm just calling to tell you that we're almost back in London. We found Jack, as well as something more useful to our investigation. When you get this message, or are available, please call back. We'll be back at my house soon, so maybe you can meet us there. Talk to you soon. Bye." The phone clicked off.

* * *

The phone rang, but Martha was a bit preoccupied. Backup had yet to arrive and that was concerning enough, as her dodging game was growing a bit tiresome. Sandra leapt at her again, swinging its hands at her. Foliage was growing from her mouth. Stems seemed to squirm their way out of her nose, to form a heinous, grotesque image. It was absolutely petrifying, as the creature inside of her took over completely, leaving nothing remotely human behind. Dark green leaves sprouted from the stems. The creature inside of Sandra had stopped speaking - mute, due to how her vocal chords were being pierced by the constantly growing foliage. The other bodies met the same fate, as vines started from their mouth and wrapped around them. Some of the vines had protruded from their ears. They, as well, moved with a sluggish limp. Martha struck out.

"Martha, you're phone is ringing," Winston exclaimed, as he pushed the little girl, once known as Josephine, away. Hideous vines shot out of her mouth, wrapping around his leg and tripping him up. He fell flat on his back and let out a very manly shriek. The vines slurped back up into the dead girl's mouth and she pounced, he rolled out of the way.

"Bit busy right now," Martha exclaimed, making her way towards the metal table. She pulled open a drawer, grabbing a scalpel. Sandra swiped again, but Martha blocked it, before striking her with the scalpel tip. Sandra continued to approach, unaffected by the blow. Why should she be affected anyways? She was nothing but an animated corpse. Rolling over the table, Martha stumbled backwards into the storage shelves before making a hasty retreat to the other side of the room. The creature's movements had become more panicked. It stumbled as if lost, falling against the wall. It noticed her once more, lunging forward.

"Where is the bloody rescue team?!" Winston exclaimed. "I called five minutes ago! They should be here - the idiots! I even said 'emergency'! How many times do I cry, 'emergency'?!"

"Winston, calm down. Stay focused," Martha replied back. She backed away from Sandra's disoriented attacks. Its dead eyes landed on the door and an inhuman moan came from its blocked lips. Clumsily, it ran towards the door, throwing its body against it. The door was closed, Martha had made sure of it. She could not allow these aliens to escape. The mobile's ringing ended and immediately switched to voice mail. There was a long beep, just as Ralph stepped up behind her and she fell to the floor, rolling out of the way.

"_Hey Martha, its Donna,_" Donna's voice rolled through the message. "_I'm just calling to tell you that we're almost back in London. We found Jack, as well as something that could be deemed useful to our investigation. When you get this message, or are available, please call back. We'll be back at my house soon, so maybe you can meet us there. Talk to you soon. Bye."_

"You know, I think, I might cry," Winston stated. "This could be the last phone message I ever hear."

"Keep yourself together, Winston," Martha insisted, though her own voice was laced with distress, as she dodged yet another strike of deadly vines. "Help will be here. In the meantime, just keep trying to avoid the attacks and I'll try to think up something!"

"Trying," Winston exclaimed, back pressed up against the morgue wall. The thing, that had once been a girl, approached him, with a dead look in her eyes. Vines trailed down her arms, as she reached a cold grey hand out towards him. An explosion of stagnant blood-filled, dried-out, tissue splattered him, as another stem pushed its way out through her dead, decaying skin. Winston gasped. Never, in a million years, had he thought his life would end at the hands of a dead child, possessed by an evil plant entity. If anyone had told him this just a week ago, he would have laughed hysterically. If he was not so petrified, he might actually melt into the hysterical laughter of a madman.

Martha backed away, scalpel still in hand - though it had not proven useful. Ralph and Sandra cornered her. Her brain raced, searching for unseen answers. How could she possibly defeat these monsters? What were they and how were they animating the dead? She, in all her travels, had never witnessed anything this terrifying, this powerful – besides possibly, the Master and the Toclafane. But even then, she had a plan. In the past, the Doctor had provided her with a plan. Here and now, she had no plan, no one to back her up and very limited knowledge on an alien species that was deemed a danger to Earth. And all that she had was a morgue attendant, who had never been on a U.N.I.T mission and an unusable scalpel that did not affect the dead in the slightest. She felt doomed and that angered her. She hated feeling out of control. No matter how hard she tried, it felt like everyone she loved suffered. Her family had suffered. The Doctor had suffered. Tom had suffered, throughout their relationship and that was why they had to break off the engagement. She was never there for him, running off to be a doctor, a soldier, and that had worn on their relationship. She could not take the final steps and let him in on her secrets. And now, Winston would suffer at the hands of a vicious plant, unable to protect him.

Backed against a wall, she brushed off these frustrated thoughts. They would do her no good. She was stronger than this and yet, for some reason, her brain could not think up a plan. The vines scraped against her cheek. Nothing happened. She watched as the three alien things stiffened, as if in pain. With a thump of limbs and vines, they dropped to the ground - dead.

Martha's mouth was curved into a picture of shock. She had honestly believed it to be the end. The aliens had fallen in a graceless heap and she could find no reason as to why. The ground shook, in a violent rumble, and she grasped the wall, trying to keep balance, as flasks smashed to the ground and the metal beds on wheels, rolled a bit from the shake. Martha lost her balance. And just as suddenly as it had started, the quake had died. The room stilled and only the silent and relieved gasps from Winston and Martha were heard.

"Two earthquakes in one day," Martha murmured. It was something that had not occurred in a while. She climbed back to her feet, legs still shaking from adrenaline and the random earthquake.

Winston did similar, stumbling for balance. "What the-" He glanced at the dead aliens. "What happened?"

"Don't know," Martha responded. She knelt down next to one of the aliens and with a hand, pushed away the foliage. The eyes of the body were still open, staring blankly up at the ceiling. But nothing moved inside of the three bodies. "They're dead."

"They just dropped dead?" Winston exclaimed. "But why? They seemed pretty alive when they were trying to kill us." Martha shrugged, her mind rapidly searching for answers. They were plants after all. They must have needed something that the dead could not provide a sufficient amount of. She glanced at the decaying bodies once more, then back at Winston, who was still rambling.

"Maybe it was a mistake," He exclaimed, unaware of Martha's attention. "A trick! Maybe they were just playing with our heads. Maybe they weren't dead-or they were. Some type of plant stroke-"

"Plant stroke," Martha breathed. "I don't think that is the case. Strokes are caused by a blood clot in the brain. Plants don't have blood – or a brain, for that matter."

"Oh, I know." Winston shrugged, hand massaging the back of his neck. "Just me, nervously rambling." Martha nodded her head, as she touched Sandra's neck. Nothing moved within her. No signal of life showed. Which meant the seedlings had most definitely perished. But how?

Winston paced. "What do plants need?" He rhetorically asked. "Carbon dioxide, yeah? They preform photosynthesis, take in carbon dioxide, let out oxygen. It is the cycle." He spun around the room. "Here-"

"The labs are sterilized, correct," Martha stated. "No actual sunlight for the plants to survive in, if they work similarly to that of earth plants. Plus, UNIT has an oxygen filter. They make sure that mostly oxygen circulates through these rooms, provides a better thinking environment for everyone working in the labs."

"Yes, also the bodies were in air tight, refrigerated drawers to keep them from decaying," Winston added. "For a rather long time, without air, or any other needed gasses for the plants to obtain, they would have started dying much quicker, explains their desperation to get out."

"But, why didn't Sandra try it before," Martha observed. "We had her body contained much longer than the others. Surely, the creature inside would have been panicking."

"Maybe, the seedling was too young to react?" Winston threw in. "Or the body, even though it was locked away, was still decaying, but much slower. Still, it was still getting the last bit of carbon dioxide it needed from the body."

"But, wouldn't it have frozen in the refrigerated drawers," Martha considered. "It would have died anyway."

"Not unless it was resistant to the cold," Winston considered. "Some plants, when the weather gets too cold, they go into hibernation and wake up in the spring. When a seed is in an unfavorable climate, they become dormant. Or if it is some alien plant, maybe the hardening of the three victims' chests trapped heat inside, incubating the seed."

"If that is the case, then why did they die?" Martha asked. "If they can just go into dormancy."

"Lack of carbon dioxide, lack of plant nutrients, lack of heat," Winston suggested. "The dead can't give off heat. It would eventually run out, even if the plant was able to conserve just a bit of it, it wouldn't last long." Martha's eyes widened.

"That is a disturbing thought," Martha stated to herself, rubbing her arms, goosebumps running up and down her limbs. She shivered.

"What?"

"Oh nothing," Martha replied, chewing on her bottom lip in thought. "Just something you said. It's just a hypothesis at the moment, but it got me thinking." Winston stared at her and she waved her hand in dismissal. "I'll explain later, if I am absolutely sure. I want to bring it up with the Doctor first, see what he thinks." Winston bobbed his head, changing the subject.

"I think our most likely cause of death to these plants though is suffocation," Winston observed. "It seems to make the most sense. What do you think, Dr. Jones?"

"I agree with your observation." Martha stepped over to Winston. "It is the most plausible theory and it would explain their desperation to escape. If we were trapped in a room of mostly carbon dioxide, we would surely die. Apparently it is no different with these creatures."

"They were trying to escape." Winston leaned against the wall. "They were possibly suffocating, slowly dying and this was their last trick, in hopes of survival." Winston crinkled his nose. "But how did it reanimate the dead? Only in horror movies that is possible-"

"They had to have connected with the brain somehow," Martha mentioned. "Wired itself into the brain and used the body as a puppet." Martha shrugged. "That is one question, I want to dig deeper into. I don't have an answer at the moment and I am hoping that we can discuss these holes with the Doctor."

"Labs?" Winston asked, with a quirk of his head.

"Labs," Martha confirmed. She was going to get to the bottom of this, even if it killed her. She was also going to get the Doctor more involved. Hopefully, she could convince him to come to U.N.I.T, to see the physical evidence. If not, she could always link him to video chat or something like that and have him observe the stuff, from the safety of his home. He probably would never trust her again, after what happened earlier that day. But there was no time to linger on the past, now was the time to move forward with the investigation and end this case once and for all. She heard soldiers marching down the hallway and the doors slid open. Soldiers swarmed the morgue, ready for battle.

"A little late ..hmf," Winston sniffed in annoyance. He was about to continue, when he caught Martha shaking her head. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut.

"Take the bodies back down to the labs," Martha addressed the soldiers. "We are going to extend our research. My colleague and I have found something potentially dangerous." The soldiers saluted, immediately setting forth with their orders. If they were surprised by the bodies on the ground, they did not show it. Martha and Winston glanced at each other, both with knowing looks. It was the start of a long night and Martha knew that she would not be going home anytime soon.

* * *

Donna hummed silently to herself, as the car drove on, growing closer to her home in Chiswick. Martha had not contacted her, and Donna assumed she was busy. Jack had assured her that whatever was going on, Martha could handle it. That alone settled her jittery nerves. The Doctor still had not awoken. Wilf had long ago fallen to the call of slumber. Only her, Jack, and William remained awake. Donna was barely hanging on.

"You know, it's alright to get some shut eye for a while," Jack commented. "You must be exhausted." Eyes popped open, Donna shook her head.

"No," she replied. "I have to stay awake for him. I need to-"

"Donna," Jack interrupted softly. Donna rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "It's alright to relax. Me, Wilf, and William are here. We can easily protect the both of you, if something comes up."

Staring into his eyes that promised her safety, she nodded her head.

"Alright," she whispered. "I'll rest then."

"Good. You don't have to be on alert." Jack reassured. "We've all got your back." He winked pleasantly.

"Thanks Jack," she said, graciously. She bowed her head. "What you are doing-" she paused, chewing on her lips and sighed. "I greatly appreciate it - all of it. So, thank you."

"No need," Jack responded. "What are friends for." Donna nodded her head and the rest of the ride was made in silence, until the Doctor's eyes shot open. His mouth opened, as if he was gasping for air and he shot off Donna's lap, hands clamped over his ears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry," He repeated in an anguished mantra.

"Spaceman," Donna called. "Spaceman, it's me."

"What's going on?" Wilf's voice broke through the chaos that was the backseat. "What's happened to our Doctor?"

Unbuckling his seat belt, Jack scooted closer to the Doctor. The Doctor flinched at his touch, pulling away. "He's having a flashback, Jack," Donna exclaimed, as she tried to calm the Doctor's nervous rocking.

"Well, calm him down," William ordered. "I can't afford getting into an accident." His knuckles were white, as he clutched the wheel, trying to stay calm and focused. Pulling the Doctor into his arms, Jack held him close. The Doctor struggled against his chest, jerking away slightly. A ghostly pigment had stolen the color from his face. Eyes shot open, the Doctor stared into emptiness. His eyes did not acknowledge the other occupants of the car, as they watched him tensely.

"So u-upset.. angry.. depressed.. lost," the Doctor mumbled to himself. "Lost someone - lost someone ..close ..not grown ..yet? No, not gr- grown.. too young." The Doctor drew his legs up to his chest. Jack and Donna stilled. "Fault of n-new species.. they killed.. revenge. Spread species.. n- new species.. our species.. our planet." The Doctor heaved a silent breath. A chill passed between the four coherent individuals. "Conquer," the Doctor growled. "..belongs to us." The Doctor shuddered. Eyes rolling back, he fell back into Donna's lap - asleep, once more. Everyone, but William stared at him. None were able to speak. Donna shuddered as a chilling fear ran up her spine.

"What was that?" William asked first.

"Psychic receivings," Jack replied, saying no more.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I know I enjoy bringing the dead back to life. What can I say, it's fun. ;) Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think. :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Thanks for reading! I truly appreciate every review that is sent and I promise I will respond to anything asked, commented, or otherwise. I want to thank thisdayandage for editing my stories. :)Thanks again for reading. Here is chapter 26! Enjoy!**

Chapter 26

With her hair done up, Sylvia sat, in her long nightgown. Head rested against the arm of her la-Z boy recliner. A book propped in her hand, as she attempted to read. But all she could do was worry. Worry, for the young man that had come into her life. For her daughter, who had been growing distant recently. And for her father, the chipper old man, who had a weak heart. All three had run off to Cardiff, without giving enough information. A multitude of bad thoughts bombarded her mind, which showed horrible things happening to all three of them; the Doctor - having an episode, her daughter - losing herself in the angst Sylvia knew she was feeling, her father - suffering from a heart attack or stroke. And she, not there to help them – to tell them what they were doing was stupid and dangerous to their health. She tried to get them to come home, but they were stubborn - did not want to budge from their decision. And now they were in Cardiff - hopefully, heading back her way. No, she could not focus on the story in her hand. Her mind filled with too much worry and bad images. Images, that would leave any mother shaken.

Squirming slightly in her chair, she pulled her knees closer to her chest. She was exhausted. Today had been a very long day. Not only did her daughter and that little friend of hers, take the Doctor outside, but the earthquake had also caused a rumble - with a second one following, less than an hour ago. Though both had not hit her neighborhood hard, a few priceless heirlooms that she had received from her mother had shattered. That loss had broken Sylvia's heart. The items shattered were mostly vases or miniature sculptures that her mother had created. Gaining much joy through painting and sculpting, her mother had been the creative sort. When her mother had been diagnosed with arthritis, it, sadly, forced her to end the creative hobbies she loved.

Her mother was a bit of hermit, preferring to lock herself in her studio to paint, draw, and create. She had paid little attention to Sylvia and her two younger brothers and that had created a distant relationship between the four - not one for warm comfort and motherly hugs. It was not that she was a cold witch, it was her personality. She did not possess the nurturing side, which Sylvia, as a girl, had seen other mothers show.

Sylvia glanced at the clock, and sighed. It was midnight. Concern escalated, she could not help but wonder where they could be. In half a mind to call Donna, she knew her sharp tongue would not go over well with her daughter, at the moment. So, she decided to sit patiently and wait for their return. It would not be long now. Digging her nose into her book, she tried to smooth down her worries. The book was a romance novel that Donna had suggested. The one thing she and her daughter had in common taste were books. Both enjoyed a good romance novel and the occasional mystery. She glanced at the clock again, '_12:15'_ it read.

"No," she whispered to herself. "No need to worry. They're probably fine...just taking their time to get home." She glanced at the clock again as the hands ticked by. "Better make some tea, to calm my nerves," she reasoned, again taking a quick glance at the clock.

Standing up, she stretched her limbs and cracked her back. About to head for the kitchen, Sylvia heard a bang outside. Head whipping around, she clutched the book, taking the defense. Sylvia hated being home alone. It had always given her the chills. Ever since that one day-oh, never mind. She could not let her mind wander to that day. That had been a bad day. But she could remember it as clear as day. The shattered windows, Donna crying in her arms. Hiding in the closet, while trying to keep her baby quiet. Her husband gone. At work, she remembered. She promised, that day, she would always keep Donna safe. Even if it seemed at times she was being a bitter old witch and crushing her daughter's adventurous dreams. The police had not arrived on time and the intruder had found her. Her hand tightened on the gun's handle, as the door flew open.

A gulp slid down her throat, as she heard footsteps approaching the door. She tried to think rationally, but her mind always went to that day. She was still terrified, traumatized. Never receiving the help she desperately needed, so she built a wall, to protect her from those awful memories. A knock came first. She tightened her hold on her book. And then Donna's voice whispered from behind the locked door.

"She might be asleep," she heard her daughter whisper. "I don't want to wake her." Sylvia let out a relieved breath, placing her book back down on the coffee table. Straightening her nightgown, she placed a well-practiced scowl on her face and crossed her arms. The door clicked open. And the keys, with a jingle, were set on the counter. "I need everyone coming in, to stay quiet," Donna continued. "She's a light-" Donna paused. "Oh, hello Mum."

"Where have you been?!" Sylvia shrilled. Of course she already knew. The conversation via telephone had explained everything. But it was only habit to throw in her usual introduction.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now."

"I told you already, Madame," Sylvia responded. "I was going to wait up for you."

"Mum, you didn't need to do that," Donna exclaimed. "We are all perfectly fine - and alive." Sylvia was about to retort, but four men walked inside. Two she knew, the Doctor and Wilf. The other two, were complete strangers, young complete strangers.

"Hello, Sweetheart," Wilf chirped, cheerfully. "How are you?"

"Fine, now that you're all back," Sylvia huffed. She gave the two strangers a pointed glare. "Who are they?" The two young men, squirmed beneath her scrutinizing gaze – good, she thought to herself.

"This is William and Jack," Wilf introduced, with a wave of his hand. "William drove us to Cardiff and we met Jack when we got there." The man with the sunglasses, William she assumed, waved his hand in an awkward friendly manner, before lowering it with little enthusiasm. He shuffled, pulling out a toothpick, before chewing on it. Jack, on the other hand, provided her with a playful, somewhat flirtatious wink, flashing her, with a white smile. The Doctor, sagging in his arms had not escaped Sylvia's careful eyes. **  
**Her original derision and uncertainty vanished at seeing the Doctor's pale complexion and dark circles under bloodshot eyes. He appeared quite scruffy and worn down from the long journey. And Skinny! He looked terribly skinny and malnourished. In need of hot soup and bed. She placed her hands on her hips, a stern look, arching her brow. "Look at you!" she exclaimed with motherly distaste. "You look like you've seen the ghost of Christmas future." The pretty boy, with the long blue coat flustered, stepping in defensively. She shot him a look quickly quieting him, before shifting her gaze back at the Doctor, who had still not made a peep. "As I was saying, you look awful and in need of sleep. Come on, I'll get you soup later." She waved her hand, in a welcoming manner and the Doctor shuffled over, with a small smile on his tired face.

"Thanks, Sylvia," he murmured gratefully.

"Nonsense," Sylvia exclaimed. "You look half dead. Apparently no one-"she shot a reprimanding look in William's and Jack's direction. "-thought about getting food or rest."

"It was a busy day," he said. "I wasn't really hungry anyways." glaring, Sylvia placed her hands on her hips.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes," he replied. "After we ended our call, William took us to a restaurant. I ate a bit and Jack offered me tea." He glanced at her, in hopes that his answer would suffice. Rolling her eyes, she nodded her gratitude at William and Jack. Though, the distrust still in her eyes, had not escaped the Doctor's keen sight. "You shouldn't worry," he whispered, so only she could hear. "Jack has been a longtime friend to me. And, William, I know, is someone I can trust. I trust them both, with my safety and the safety of Earth." Sylvia's hard gaze fell and the Doctor stepped away.

"It still doesn't compensate for how pale you're looking," She reprimanded, as if disregarding what the Doctor had just told her. "Though, the issue may be that you haven't slept well in the last couple of days."

"I slept in the car," he countered.

"Not good enough," Sylvia shot back. "You are going to bed, Mister. No 'if's' or 'but's'."

"Oh, alright then," the Doctor sighed, with mock exasperation. He made a tired wink at Donna, who rolled her eyes. "I guess you won me over." He followed Sylvia up the stairs, his feet dragging along the carpet. He was exhausted and for some odd reason, he had developed an awful headache. In irritation, he massaged his temples. "Good night, you lot."

"There's soup and leftover chicken in the refrigerator," Sylvia announced down the steps. "Help yourself, if you're hungry." And with that, both disappeared up the stairs. Jack flopped down onto the La-Z-boy recliner, with an exasperated huff.

"Well," he started. "She's a force of nature not to be reckoned with-" Jack smiled charmingly at Donna. "Sort of like her daughter." Donna grabbed one of the sofa pillows and tossed it at him. He caught it, with a teasing laugh.

"Get off yourself," Donna exclaimed, crossing her arms.

"I'd rather not," Jack chided back. "But, I have to admit, there are quite a few similarities between you and your mother."

"I am not my mother," Donna defended, falling down onto the couch. William sat down next to her, leaning his head back and yawning. The used toothpick had been placed back into his pocket. Wilf joined them as well.

"She's very protective of the Doctor," William noted. "She definitely gave both me and Jack 'the look' - as if we were invading her home."

"She-" Donna began, chewing on her lips. "Knows what happened to him and has sort of adopted him into our family. She's over protective, even with me many times. And it can be a bit smothering, considering I'm an adult and can make my own educated decisions."

"She just wants the best for you, sweetheart," Wilf assured. Understandingly, Donna nodded her head, though she could not bring herself to completely agree. Her mother had always been a hard woman to get along with. She was judgmental, rude, and many times shallow - seeming to only think of herself. Yet, since the Doctor arrived, she had started to reveal a more motherly side to her rough exterior. And even to her daughter, Sylvia's biting tone had seemed to be more of an act, than an actual way of feeling. She had shown more love and concern to Donna, than she had in a long time. And if what had happened to both her and the Doctor had softened Sylvia's heart, then that was a blessing in itself.

"I'm just surprised the Doctor takes it," Jack expressed, as a hand brushed through his hair. "He just isn't the type to take orders and follow them."

"He hasn't had an easy time as of it lately," reminded Donna. "Plus, as you said, my Mother is bossy. The Doctor sort of learned to listen to what my mother has to say, if he doesn't want to get scolded, or nagged at." She gave him a conspiratorial smile. "I think he also enjoys the attention, just a bit."

"Of course he does," Jack agreed. He jumped up, stretching his limbs. "It's late and unless we have something else we need to discuss, I might agree with Sylvia and get some shut-eye. We can contact Martha tomorrow. See if she found anything useful."

"I agree, lad," Wilf stated, smothering a yawn. "A bit of shuteye would do us some good." He glanced between his two guests. "It's late, if you both want to crash here tonight, we can easily make room. We have a blow-up mattress that we can place in the office and someone can sleep on the couch."

Standing up, William shook his head. "Actually, I might head home. I don't want to intrude and besides, I live nearby." He held out his hand, shaking Wilf's and then Donna's and Jack's. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I'll be heading out now."

"Well, don't be a stranger," Wilf pleasantly urged. "Stop by when you can."

"We'd be happy to have your help on the case," Donna added. "And thank you for driving us to Cardiff. I know it was out of the way."

"Just doing my job," he assured and headed towards the front door, with the other three following him. They said their goodbyes and William left. The van pulled out of the driveway.

"I assume you're spending the night," Wilf stated. Jack nodded his head.

"Didn't have time to find a hotel nearby," Jack confirmed.

"In that case, I'll grab you a few blankets and a pillow," Wilf replied. "You can stay as long as you like. A friend of the Doctor and Donna's is a friend of mine." Smiling warmly, he placed his foot on the first step, slowly making his way up the stairs. Donna immediately spotted the exhaustion in every cautious step. Today had been a terribly long day for her grandfather as well. He had not moved this much for a good few years, since he was diagnosed with a bad heart and not long to live. She felt the choking emotion as she remembered the doctor's words and she couldn't imagine a life without her grandfather. He had always been there for her, encouraging her dreams and supporting them when no one else would. Both her grandparents were loving, in different ways. It was hard to believe that her grandfather would be joining her grandmother soon enough.

She loved her grandmother to bits, every eccentric, creative part of her. She was a free spirit and encouraged Donna to be as well. Donna had adored every stay she had with her. Her grandmother was not like other grandmothers, in the case that she would bake you fresh cookies, or knit by the fire, or even read you a book before bed. She was outside the box of normalcy, preferring to paint magnificent pictures or take you on wild hunts in the meadows, or star watch all night while lying on cold, wet grass. Donna appreciated that, her mother had not. Sylvia wanted a mother who would do all the things that fitted the status-quo of society - fall into place, with everyone else. Her mother wanted normal, Donna did not. And that was why she could never reveal the Doctor's true identity. He would not fit in her mother's perfect world.

"Donna," Jack broke through her musings, with a gentle hand to her arm. She shook her head to clear the last few lingering thoughts. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she responded, quickly. "Sorry, just thinkin'."

"About what?" Jack questioned. He was sat on the couch, his legs crossed and hands behind his head.

"'Bout my family, my grandfather, my mother."

He hummed in response, not answering, just waiting for her to continue.

"The arrival of me and the Doctor has been hard on them," Donna continued with a sigh. "It's been one thing after another and none of us seem able to get a break." She flopped down onto the couch, next to him. "And I am hardly ever here anymore," her voice hitched from guilt. "I run off to do the shopping and maybe once in a while meet with Dr. Roberts, but I just can't-" She lowered her eyes. "It's getting harder."

Jack understood. "What about your mother and grandfather?"

Donna snorted. "The only one who knows about the actual situation is my grandfather. He knows the Doctor is an alien. My mother doesn't and I want to keep it that way."

"Why's that?"

Chewing on her lips, Donna thought back to her original train of thought before Jack had pulled her away. "My mother has never been crazy about change, or difference for that matter. She believes that everything has to fit inside this tiny box and has to work accordingly." Donna glanced at the picture on top of the mantelpiece. In the picture, her ten-year-old self stood next to her mother and father, hair in pigtails. They were on the beach, her mother with a forced grin and watchful eyes. "Part of the reason she pressured me into marriage," Donna muttered. "Made me think I wasn't important enough, unless I was married with kids."

"I'm sorry," Jack sympathized.

"Meh," Donna waved him off. "Not your fault. But, it is part of the reason why I don't want to tell my mother about the Doctor being an alien. She would most likely react negatively."

"What about the alien danger that is approaching?" Jack reminded.

"My Mum has my ability of missing gigantic alien encounters," Donna replied. "Or even waving it off as a hoax, or something entirely different. I think we might be fine."

Jack chuckled. "You never know though," Jack wad thoughtful. "If your mother does find out about the Doctor, she may just surprise you and accept him as an alien. She seems to have really taken a fancy to him. But then again, who hasn't." Jack winked, with a smirk on his handsome face.

"Oh, shush you," Donna grumbled, with a blush. But what Jack had said was true. She knew it was true. It was just sometimes harder to believe it true, when the Doctor had days where he did not behave like himself. Jack smiled, knowingly. Staring out the window, she quickly and stealthily switched topic. "So, 'psychic recievings.' What is it?"

Jack sat silently for a while, not rushing to answer her question. Donna huffed. "Well don't speak too fast, Mate," said Donna, sarcastically. "Not like we're goin' anywhere, anytime soon. Take your time." Jack raised his brow, lips quirking to the side. "I'll try to explain as slow as possible," he cheekily retorted. "Don't want anyone to fall behind."

Rolling her eyes, Donna leaned forward. "So, what is it?" she repeated. "And does the Doctor remember what happened and what he said?"

"Probably not," Jack responded. "If so, it would be like a mirage, unclear and a bit grainy. But he was asleep when he was connected and like a radio, was just broadcasting what this creature was saying. He may have very limited recollection of the encounter." Jack paused, searching for the best way to explain a psychic receiving, to a non-telepathic being. The only reason the Doctor was able to broadcast the psychic message was because he was telepathic. "A psychic receiving is when one telepathic being receives a message or a thought pattern from another telepathic being – voluntarily, or involuntarily. Usually involuntarily though. The one receiving the message is normally a strong telepath, but with a weakened protective wall that can't keep foreign thoughts out. The Doctor received it by accident and has no recollection of the message and that is what's concerning me." Jack sighed. "Normally, the Doctor can keep his walls up just fine and foreign thoughts out. But-"

"He can't," Donna confirmed. "Do you think he lost control of his telepathy?"

"No, not exactly," Jack replied. "I think, out of exhaustion, he accidentally relaxed his shields - believing he was safe. I don't think the encounter hurt him in anyway - probably just gave him a headache, at worst. However, it is still concerning to know that he's not able to keep everyone out." Jack glanced outside. "But I think this mistake has given us an advantage."

"How?"

"If you listened to the way the Doctor incoherently rambled, many of the terms used pointed towards a creature that was not of flesh and blood."

"You think the Doctor was receiving a telepathic message from the root?"

"I think he might have," Jack concluded. "We were growing rather close to London at that point."

"But why hasn't the Doctor received more of these telepathic broadcasts before?"

"Maybe it is now strong enough to send out a psychic message.."

"Or it was desperate and angry and lashed out," Donna reasoned. "Think about what it said, 'Lost someone-not grown yet, they killed, revenge.' That doesn't seem like something looking to make friends."

"Let's just keep both eyes and ears open. See what we can learn," Jack planned. Donna nodded her head in agreement.

* * *

Pulling up to his driveway, William killed the lights. He climbed out of his van, locking it tight. And slowly made his way to his one-story, two-roomed house, where he would spend the rest of the night, alone. Glancing at the house, a sad expression graced his features. He was alone. The stars twinkled above and lazy gray clouds drifted through the endless abyss and he had no one to come home to. No wife, or kids, no friends, no pets - not even his parents. Not that he would ever want to face his parents again. The decisions he had made would surely disappoint them and he did not think he could handle that type of disappointment.

He found that familiar craving for nicotine returning, drying his mouth, before he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. No, he decided, he would never go back. He was going to make a clean start. He would change his life around; he just wished he knew how.

He took the few paces up to his porch, when he heard the shriek of his neighbor's mother. The little old woman, with clumsy jerks and twitches, dragged her feet along the road. Her daughter chasing after her. The old woman's neck twisted awkwardly and an inhuman gurgling sound released between parted lips. William sighed. Mrs. Daniels was her name. Once, she was the sweet old lady that lived down the street - not so much, anymore. Ever since she was found, sprawled in her garden, a week or so ago, she had changed drastically, taking on abnormal behaviors. To the point where her daughter and her daughter's husband began phoning in doctors. The doctors couldn't find anything, except for...William shook his head. He had not even been there - only heard the rumors from his neighbors. No need to spread gossip. He turned away and entered his house, listening to the daughter and the husband beg Mrs. Daniels to come back inside. Her screams came out in a gurgling, inhuman mess.

* * *

**Hello, Thanks for reading, I hope you are enjoying this story. I just wanted to let people know that I will be rewriting and editing the Underground by adding things in and taking out scenes I find unneccassary to the plot. Overall, I am hoping to make the story better and keeping away from unneeded tangents. I have written an explanation on my profile. Thank you for being diligent readers and reviewers. I truly appreciate it. :)**


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